Melting Ice
by Aussie73
Summary: When General Jack O'Neill hires Doctor Samantha Carter to the SGC Science Department, he has NO idea just what he's left himself in for!
1. Chapter 1

_AU, exploring a shyer Jack than the one in our universe and a more aggressive Sam (civilian Sam, not military Sam). However, I think our Jack is also pretty shy - he's just better at hiding it than the one I wrote._

* * *

**PART 1**

**June 2004:**

_Damn, he's so hot!_, Doctor Sam Carter thought, watching her new boss, Major General Jack O'Neill, as he talked to an Air Force officer about Sam's own age, maybe a little older.

Not that Sam was any good at guessing ages. General O'Neill could have been anywhere in his mid-to-late 40s by his appearance – but she had read the unclassified portions of his file and knew that he was 51, 52 in four months.

The General was tall – perhaps five or six inches taller than Sam's own 5'9" – lean and muscular, with an unusual good-looking face accentuated by high cheekbones, deep dark eyes and untidy silver hair.

To the casual onlooker, the older man would've seemed to epitomize relaxed as he chatted with his colleague, but Sam had a feeling his half-open eyes saw more than most people's most intense observations. There was something … dangerous about him.

Sam gave a little shiver; she'd always liked rebels. And she'd always liked older men. Put the two together with velvet brown eyes and an ass to die for, and she was one happy camper.

"General O'Neill?" she said when the man beckoned her into his office. "Doctor Samantha Carter reporting."

"Ah yes; the new Science Head." He nodded to the Colonel. "You'll ship out at 0700 tomorrow, Dixon, to meet with the Tok'ra. So, play nice."

The officer smirked. "No promises, General," he replied.

"Dixon …," the General sighed.

"Okay, Jack; I promise not to rag on the snakes too much."

Snakes? Not exactly a diplomatic term for one of the SGC's longest-standing allies.

And now the General shook his head. "Get out of here, Dave, while I remember just why I like you."

Dixon snickered then nodded to Sam as he went past her. "Doctor," he said politely, "welcome to the SGC; I'm Colonel Dixon."

"Good to meet you, Colonel," Sam replied with a smile. The man had a rather offbeat sense of humor that was pretty appealing, but he wasn't her type.

General Jack O'Neill, on the other hand …

"So … Samantha Carter. PhD in Theoretical Astrophysics, PhD in Political Sciences and an MBA," the man in question said. He waved her into a chair facing him, and they sat as Dixon strolled away. "You a brainiac or just really indecisive?"

Sam felt immediately at ease. Some military men – father and brother included – were uncomfortable with her scholastic accomplishments, but General Jack O'Neill seemed different. "Which is going to incriminate me the least?" she shot back.

He gave a slight smile. "Doctor Lee would normally carry out your induction, but he's out on paternity leave at the moment," he said. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"That's all right, General," she said, musing that she wouldn't mind spending time with this sexy man.

He passed her a manila folder full of papers, and she grimaced. _Oh joy! _He returned the grimace. "It's not the guns or the snake-heads that'll kill ya; it's the paperwork," he said.

_Oh yes_, Sam thought, _I could get to like it here._

An unusual realization for someone who had no fondness for the military. She'd never gotten along particularly well with her dad, and had been spectacularly unsurprised by his near-complete disappearance six years ago. He surfaced once in a while and they'd tried to make it work, but they just had zip in common. She'd never felt like she was good enough and, to top it all off, she showed no interest in joining the military.

As for her brother … he'd come back from a tour of duty just long enough to knock up her best friend Janet before abandoning both her and the child.

Lieutenant Colonel Janet Fraiser was actually the CMO of this base – for eight long years, Sam had wondered what the hell went on under NORAD, and now she knew. And it was more fantastic than she could ever have dreamed.

"I understand you're friends with Doctor Fraiser," General O'Neill said now, pulling her out of her dark thoughts about her philandering brother.

"Uhm, yes," Sam said. "That isn't a problem, is it?"

"No," the General said seriously. "Just remember that, as CMO, she has full medical authority over everyone in this base – civilians and yours truly included."

"Uh … of course," Sam said, taken aback by his sudden shift in mood. Although quiet and rather reserved, he'd shown signs of a good sense of humor a minute earlier. Who'd shoved the stick up his butt?

* * *

Jack O'Neill stuffed his hands into the pockets of his BDUs as he led Doctor Carter to the commissary, smiling slightly as she babbled enthusiastically about the power needed to generate a stable wormhole. He liked her, he decided, although he had the feeling that her super-brain would wear him out rather quickly. It had been a long time since he'd been intimidated by scientists – his close friendship with a stubborn archeologist/linguist having put paid to that – but her enthusiasm was something he just could not relate to. It had been a very long time since he'd felt so enthusiastic about anything.

Two years ago, he had been in charge of SG-1, leading Daniel Jackson, Dave Dixon and the Jaffa Teal'c on their missions. Then he'd caught a staff blast at close quarters during a botched mission, wrecking his shoulder and essentially ensuring that he would never see active duty again. Janet Fraiser had also been shot and had died. Fortunately, they had found a sarcophagus and had managed to revive her.

He shuddered at how close it had been, at the idea that the Doc's adorable little girl would have grown up without her mom. Bad enough that she had a deadbeat for a dad – if Jack ever found out who the guy was …

After Jack's removal from active duty, Dixon had been promoted to full bird and now headed SG-1, with a young Major named Mitchell as his 2IC. And part of Jack was envious as hell.

But he'd lost his enthusiasm a long time before that staff blast, he was honest enough to admit to himself. Sure, at first, it had been exciting leading people to strange new worlds, but pretty soon, one planet started to look very much like another.

"You've become old before your time. You have no passion – for anything," his last girlfriend had told him when she'd ended their relationship. "I can't live like that."

He'd had passion, once. But his lust for life hadn't meshed well with his wife's more timid approach – to everything. She hadn't understood his need for speed, his sometimes reckless take on life. And as for love-making … Well, that had never particularly interested her, had been more along the nature of a duty.

Their marriage had eventually become more like a distant friendship. They'd both known it wasn't working, and had mutually decided to call their twelve-year marriage quits.

That had been ten years ago, and the divorce had been very civil. He saw his son as much as he was able, given his schedule and the fact that a lot of his life was classified beyond belief. Then, four years ago, Sara O'Neill had been hit by a drunk driver, dying upon impact.

Charlie had come to live with Jack, enlivening the lonely man's days with his energy, his joie de vivre. Unusually for a teenager, he'd not been particularly rebellious or sulky, and Jack had been thrilled when the kid had gotten into Notre Dame. _Go, Irish. _Now Charlie was in his sophomore year, living off campus, and Jack's solitary life had resumed without a hitch.

Although a powerful, handsome and successful man, Jack O'Neill was no social butterfly. He spent much of his time in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain and what little of his free time was spent alone. He'd had a couple of short-lived relationships since the divorce, but they hadn't lasted – due in the main to the rigid control he'd learned to impose upon himself. Some people just weren't meant to be in a relationship – he was one of those people.

Or so he thought.

He had no idea that the blonde babbling scientist strolling next to him was about to turn his insular little world upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART 2**

**Several weeks later:**

"Damn!" Sam muttered, turning her key. The vintage Volvo squealed in protest and didn't respond. "Come on baby …," she cajoled. "Be nice for Momma and she'll get you that shiny new carburetor she saw last week."

Nothing.

Sam pulled a face then got out of her car, cursing as she stepped into a large puddle. _Of course_, she mused with a sigh. Classic cars didn't like bad weather.

"Car trouble, Doctor?" General O'Neill said quietly, coming up to her and holding a large leather coat over both their heads.

"Yeah," Sam said glumly. "And my cellphone just died, too. Can I use yours to call the auto club?"

"Mine's dead as well," the General said. "But … if you want … I'll drive you home, then you can call the auto club from there."

Sam smiled at him. The last few weeks had served to revise her opinion of him. He was shy and reserved around her, but had proven himself to be one of the good guys. Maybe he just wasn't comfortable with women, although that seemed odd for such a sexy man. "I'd like that," she said, putting her hand on his arm.

He shied back, rather like a puppy expecting a beating, then tried to cover the reaction by pointing in the direction of a big black Ford F250. She smiled; _boys and their toys_. "I'm parked over there," he said, then coughed slightly.

"Okay," Sam replied, then allowed him to step in front of her to unlock the passenger door, admiring the way his jeans accented his long legs and tight butt. The man was in great shape. He bent over slightly as he leaned in to throw his briefcase on the back seat and she let slip a sigh of longing when the jeans molded lovingly to those taut cheeks. Christmas had come early for one Doctor of Theoretical Astrophysics.

"You okay, Doctor?" he asked, straightening and glancing at her in inquiry.

"Fine," Sam said, wondering how he'd react if she just leaned over and bit that fine piece of real estate. "And, for the three thousandth time, the name's Sam."

"Ah." The man smiled bashfully as they settled themselves into the truck and he pulled out of the parking lot. "Call me Jack, in that case."

"Jack," she said, drawing the simple name out. "Anyone ever call you Jackie?"

And now he grinned – a full-blown grin that made his eyes dance merrily and gave him deep dimples. _Wow. Holy shit. _"Not twice," he asserted. "Anyone ever call you Sammie?"

He had a point. "Not twice," she parroted.

She was rewarded with another dimpled grin. God; he really was a nice guy, and so good-looking. He needed to be brought out of his shell – a man like him shouldn't be so introverted. And she was just the woman to do it.

* * *

Silence reigned in the truck as Jack followed Doctor Carter's clear directions and pulled off of the freeway into a quiet suburb of Colorado Springs. It was surprisingly near his own house, although nowhere near as isolated. Its isolation had been the selling point for him.

"Nice neighborhood," he said somewhat inanely. He never knew what to say to women, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that the young Doctor had been flirting with him. In the five weeks since her arrival at the SGC, she'd dated several of the personnel, charming most of the men with her combination of brains and beauty and even her skill with a Beretta. Of course, she was a General's daughter so he'd likely trained her in how to handle a gun. Which made Jack wonder why she'd never joined the military herself. Her older brother was Air Force, based at Lackland, her father had been an Air Force Major General before his retirement, so it would make sense for her to follow in their footsteps.

Doctor Carter beamed at him, and it reminded him of sunshine breaking out of the clouds. "Thanks," she said. "After years of bouncing around from state to state, I figured it was time to settle down." She grimaced, the action causing her cute little nose to wrinkle. _Cute little nose? Where the hell did that come from? _"Air Force brat," she added.

"I know," Jack said. "It's in your file." He looked around. "Right or left, Doctor?"

"Left," Doctor Carter replied. "And it's Sam, remember?" She patted the hand resting on the gear stick.

"Okay," Jack said lamely, turning left and pulling into a pretty street, situated handily for the local school. He wasn't nuts – she was flirting with him!

* * *

Sam knew she was making Jack uncomfortable with her touching him all the time. But he was so … so … so damn adorable. The hairball-hack of a cough, the lame replies to her conversation, the way he blushed at the few compliments she'd paid him. He was like a shy schoolboy, and she would've thought him a virgin. Except that was patently ridiculous. A man didn't reach his age, looking like that, without having gotten laid. Besides, he had a teenage son who was the spitting image of him – right down to the endearing cowlick at the back of his head.

They pulled up outside her pretty little one-story, and she turned to him. "Come in for a bit?"

And there was the blush. "Ah … okay," Jack said, putting the big truck into park, then getting out of the truck and hurrying to the passenger door to pull it open.

"Oh, a gentleman!" Sam got out of the truck, making sure he got a good look at her long legs displayed in the knee-length flirty skirt she wore with pale stockings and simple sandals. He was such a good height for her – all she'd have to do is tilt her head up slightly for her lips to reach that full bottom lip of his.

He gave that familiar hairball hack, looking at her house. She realized with chagrin that he hadn't noticed the display of her legs at all. Maybe he just wasn't interested in her? Well, fair enough. Sam's ego was healthy enough to cope with rejection. Yet he showed no signs of being interested in anyone, female or male, and that was just … damn odd. A strong, fit sexy man doing an important job was like catnip to many women – he should be pulling them in by the dozen.

Of course, he wasn't a young man anymore – he'd likely reached the age where nature required a little medicinal aid. No problem, as far as Sam was concerned. She was secure enough to realize that men sometimes couldn't get it up, and it was rarely anything to do with the woman they were with.

She waved him into the living room, watching with a small smile as he settled deeply into her recliner with a big contented sigh. What was it with guys and La-Z-Boys? "Make yourself at home," she offered dryly.

The man was actually relaxed enough to merely send her a cheeky grin. "Thanks; think I will," he replied.

She giggled softly and headed into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of beer. "Beer, Jack?" she called out.

"Ah … no thanks," he replied.

"Right; you're driving," Sam said, coming back into the living room, opening the bottle and swallowing several large gulps of the cold drink.

Jack shrugged, the movement drawing Sam's attention to the strong shoulders and chest – usually hidden by oversized BDUs but now displayed in a black tee shirt. "I don't … uh … drink very often," he confessed. His liquid brown eyes examined her seriously. "I don't like the idea of giving up control."

Sam had never met anyone so buttoned-up. Yet there was something about him that suggested an inherent sensuality – his appreciative examination of her paintings, the way he ate, those dark bedroom eyes. He was such a contradiction – the buttoned-up military man and the sexual passionate man that struggled to be heard over Jack's Air Force proprieties.

He was a challenge, and if there was anything Samantha Carter loved, it was a challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART 3**

**Several weeks later:**

A knock on the door was a welcome interruption as Jack struggled through the mound of paperwork that had bred on his desk during his impromptu vacation a couple weeks earlier. "Come in," he called out.

The visitor was a very welcome interruption. "Am I interrupting?" she asked.

"Not at all, Doctor!" Jack said, giving her a smile. She'd eased up on the flirtation, and they were fast becoming friends. "Take a pew. Uh …". He leaned over and grabbed the stack of files from the spare chair. "I'd swear this stuff breeds."

Sam gave him a grin. "I'm sure it does," she said.

Man, she had a great smile. It was no wonder half the male populace of the SGC was smitten with her. Even he, old Stone-Heart O'Neill, wasn't immune to the gigawatt-grin.

"Jack?" Sam regarded him curiously, her head tilted sideways – like a curious puppy.

Jack blinked back to the present. "Sorry, Sam; mind wandered off," he admitted. "Must be gettin' old."

Sam smiled again. "You're not old," she argued gently. "Anyway; I came here to invite you to B2Z 9QT with us. It'll be my tenth off-world mission and I want to celebrate with you."

Despite his dense façade, Jack did actually recall planetary designations. B2Z 9QT had recently been visited by SG-7, who'd reported a people with a deceptively simple culture. They were technologically advanced – much more so than Earth – but their advancements had nearly caused their own demise. They had, therefore, chosen to reduce their dependence on technology until they were wise enough to use it without detriment to their world.

"The Utopians," he said. Their actual name escaped him.

"Uhm; yeah," Sam agreed; he was pretty sure she was just humoring him. "They're a peaceful people who've expressed an interest in getting to know their long lost cousins."

Jack held up a forefinger. "Sam … you've forgotten the most important thing," he said lightly.

Ever since the fun evening spent at her house the day her car died, their interactions had changed – become less formal, more teasing. Not that they were flirting. Jack was way out of practice, and Sam seemed to realize that. But he found himself enjoying the repartee.

Confusion creased Sam's beautiful face. "Jack?"

"Trees, Doc! Are there trees on Utopia?"

And now she laughed. "Of course."

"Excellent." Jack clapped his hands together. "Cos you know just how much I …"

"… love trees," Sam finished for him in a pretty good approximation of his snarky tone.

Smart ass. He was absurdly pleased at that.

He reviewed his stack of files. There was nothing urgent there – the commissary budget could wait one more day. "Just give me a couple hours with Reynolds," he said, naming the Marine Corps Colonel who was his 2IC.

"Great," Sam replied. "We'll see you at 9 am then."

"Lookin' forward to it," Jack offered. He waved his hand at her. "Now … shoo. Get lost. I've got important General-type things to do."

Sam got up. "Yes, sir," she teased, aiming an approximation of a military salute in his direction. She leaned over and tapped the commissary budget. "Just remember my blue Jell-O."

"Samantha Carter; in the ten weeks you've been here, have I ever not ordered blue Jell-O?" Jack pretended to be scandalized. "That'd be like forgetting Daniel's coffee or Teal'c's candles." He gave a dramatic shudder. "Anathema."

"Or your pie," Sam chimed in.

"Exactly." Jack gave her his best mock scowl. "So … go play in your lab."

Sam gave him another cheeky salute. "Yes, sir!" she said. Then gave him her dazzling Carter-esque smile. "I'll see you later, General," she added, slipping out of the room.

Leaving Jack in shock.

Just when the hell had he become attracted to her?

And what the hell was he going to do about it?

* * *

**0900 hours:**

Samantha Carter knew she had a goofy grin on her face.

That look on the General's face – like he'd finally come home – as they walked up the ramp side by side was priceless. There were just her, the General, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c coming on this peaceful mission. Dixon's wife had just given birth to their fifth child – five children, good grief – and Mitchell was recovering from a nasty bout of flu.

"Woo-hoo!" the General muttered as he waved his hand through the surface of the event horizon.

Then he smirked at her and settled a battered ballcap onto his untidy head. "Good memories, huh, Doc?" he said.

She returned the smile. "Good memories, Jack," she agreed.

Then put a hand to his back and pushed him through the event horizon, echoing what he'd done to her several weeks earlier when she'd spent five minutes prognosticating about the event horizon. _Damn wise-ass._

Ignoring Teal'c's raised eyebrow and Daniel's muffled laughter, she settled her own cap and followed the General through in a much more dignified manner.

_Oh, yes_, she mused with an O'Neill-worthy smirk. _Good memories indeed._

* * *

Jack came flying through the 'gate and tumbled down the steps, managing to tuck into a roll. Good to see the old reflexes hadn't softened any during his time chained to a desk.

Of course; a certain blonde Doctor was a dead woman.

Said blonde Doctor came strolling through the event horizon and had the nerve to smile sweetly at him. "General," she said blandly, big blue eyes looking oh-so-innocent.

Not that he bought that innocent look.

"Doctor," he returned just as blandly, getting up and ignoring the creaking protest of his knees. His knees creaked not due to the ACL – Ba'al had cleared that up – but simply because he wasn't in his 30s, or even his 40s, anymore.

He looked around the planet, noting the two suns – must be a bitch to live here in the summer – and the surprisingly verdant fields ahead of him. Hell; they must have some good irrigation.

"Company, General," Sam said, pointing to where a young woman emerged from the trees, accompanied by an equally young man.

The young woman had a small girl on her hip – the little girl babbled something and pointed at SG-1.

"Greetings," the young man said as the couple came to a halt. "You must be from Earth. I am Merrick and this is my sister, Tralin."

"Nice to meet you," Jack said. "I'm Jack O'Neill, that's Sam Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c."

Merrick eyed Teal'c's tattoo, but didn't react beyond that. Jack figured they either knew nothing about the Goa'uld or didn't fear them. "Welcome to Quinlan," he said.

_Quinlan; riiiiiiiiight_, Jack scolded himself.

Tralin smiled shyly at SG-1 then locked her large eyes on Jack. "This is my daughter, Krys," she said softly.

The little girl was nowhere near as shy as her mother. She held out her pudgy hands to Jack, who took them. "Hello, Krys," he said, lifting one adorably sticky hand to his lips.

The infant giggled then leaned into him to press an equally sticky kiss to his cheek. "'Lo, Jack," she returned. "Love you," she added, batting her long dark lashes at him.

Merrick – who'd so far struck Jack as being pretty solemn – laughed suddenly. "Little hussy!" he teased his niece. He looked at Jack carefully, seeming to take his measure. "We were about to have breakfast – would you join us?"

Jack could always eat, but he'd learned the lesson about alien food a long time ago. Yet it wouldn't do to be rude to these folks. "Ah, sure," he said. "C'mon, kids," he added.

"These are your offspring?" Tralin inquired curiously. "You must be older than you look."

Ignoring Sam's giggles, Jack shook his head. "I'm not their father," he said. "It's just a term of endearment."

"I see," Tralin murmured, holding Krys securely as the infant investigated Jack's ballcap from every angle. "Don't wriggle so, Krys!" she chided her daughter.

Who paid no attention, of course.

Jack smiled, recalling Charlie at that age. So giggly, curious and energetic. _Note to self: call Charlie this weekend._


	4. Chapter 4

**PART 4**

Sam watched as General O'Neill and little Krys continued to bond over breakfast. The chubby infant had worked her way into the General's lap and was making rapid inroads into his heart.

Tough, withdrawn and cynical in many respects, she'd learned his heart was always open to a child. And they seemed to instinctively know it. She'd never seen anything like the way kids of all ages seemed to gravitate toward him.

"He is very good with her," Tralin offered softly. "Does he have children at home?"

Sam shook her head. "No," she said. "He has a grown-up son, who moved out about a year ago."

"Oh," the young woman mouthed. She looked at the General, who was telling a nonsensical story to his little admirer. She blushed. "Is he … Does his heart belong to anyone?"

Sam stiffened with inappropriate jealousy. Contrary to what she herself had expected, she hadn't jumped his fine bones. They were friends; good friends. But that was it. So she had no right to feel jealous.

"I wouldn't know," she finally said to the young woman. "His personal life isn't any of my business."

Tralin regarded her thoughtfully and, for a moment, Sam felt as if the young woman was trying to look into her soul. Then she nodded her head. "Of course," she said.

_Oy! What is it with aliens and ambiguity?_, Sam groused to herself as she uncorked her canteen. Never mind that Tralin was just as human as Sam herself.

Delighted giggles erupted from Krys, and Sam turned to see the infant held high above General O'Neill's head, his strong arms making nothing of her little body. "V'ooom!" she called out, pinwheeling her arms.

General O'Neill had a wide smile on his face as he brought Krys down to deliver a loud raspberry to her now exposed belly. This brought on another round of giggles, and Sam felt something inside clench at the sight. The dark-eyed man and the equally dark-eyed toddler were already deeply attached, and Sam sighed. Jack O'Neill was such a great father – it wasn't fair that he'd never had any more kids.

"Hey, Sam! You still with us?" the man himself inquired, and Sam blinked out of her reverie.

"Uh … yeah, sorry," she said, taking the proffered meal bar from his hand. But not without a glance of envy to the bowls of fruit and platters of bread on the table.

She bit glumly into the dry meal bar – was it her imagination or were these things actually getting worse?

* * *

Jack – plus tiny sweetheart – looked over at Sam, who was in a world of her own. Her slim fingers fiddled with the meal bar and her eyes were unfocused.

Krys leaned into him, her mouth ringed with blue from the fruit she'd just eaten. "Sam sad," she pointed out.

Jack hadn't noticed any signs of sadness, but she was definitely withdrawn today – nowhere near as outgoing as usual.

A tiny hand patted his cheek. "Jack sad," the little girl observed. "No be sad." And a sloppy kiss landed on his nose.

Jack O'Neill was a sucker for kids – always had been – but even he was surprised at how quickly the chubby infant had wormed into his affections. "Okay," he said, stealing her nose and making her giggle. "I won't be sad anymore."

Krys batted her big brown eyes at him. "Kiss Sam?" she said.

Jack choked on … nothing. "Say what?" he said, hoping it was just a syntax problem.

"Me … kiss Sam," the cherub clarified patiently.

And Jack remembered to breathe again. It wasn't like he didn't want to kiss Sam, but cans and worms. "Ah," he said. "Good idea."

The little one wriggled out of his lap and pottered to Sam, then held out her arms in the universal gesture for 'up'. Sam looked startled at first then she picked up the little girl and settled her into her lap. The chubby arms wound round Sam's neck and Krys delivered a smacking kiss to Sam's nose.

Sam now looked shocked. Then she smiled brightly at the infant.

And Jack choked again.

* * *

Sam had never really had much to do with babies until Allie had been born a few years ago. Her other friends were just as childless as Sam. She'd never felt that maternal urge, and she was okay with that.

"No be sad, Sam!" Krys said, kissing her again – as if to emphasize her point.

And Sam felt something tug at her heart. She'd heard people talk about the unconditional love of a baby, but had never experienced it before. Her heart actually felt … fuller.

Cliché, but true.

* * *

Breakfast now over, Daniel Jackson watched as Jack and Sam talked – heads close together, pausing frequently to engage little Krys in teasing and tickles, causing her to giggle loudly.

To anyone who didn't know them, it would've looked like they were a family – especially with the dark eyes of both Jack and Krys.

And it was so obvious how Jack and Sam felt about each other. They didn't need words or big eloquent gestures – the looks, the little things, said it all. Although Daniel was pretty certain Jack had no idea; the older man had never been good at expressing feelings, and he was notoriously shy around women. Daniel was surprised at how close the buttoned-up military man had become to the open and outgoing doctor.

When he'd first met Sam, he had felt a distinct pull to the beautiful blonde. He'd asked her out pretty soon after their first meeting, and they'd gone on a couple of dates together. And decided to remain friends.

And even now … she had become one of his best friends, yet he couldn't deny how beautiful he found her. It wasn't love, but had things been different …

"They look so cute together."

At the surprising observation – only surprising due to its maker – Daniel nodded his head. "They always do," he admitted.

"Indeed."

Now, that was a more Teal'cish – it was a word! – response.

"You think they realize it yet?" Daniel added.

"It is none of my concern, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. _Nor is it yours_, was the unspoken rider.

"Right," Daniel said then was distracted by some markings on a obelisk. They looked familiar, but he couldn't quite pin it down …

He scrabbled in his backpack and produced his camera, then headed over to the obelisk, his linguist mind relishing the challenge. It was too long since he'd been on this type of mission. He'd missed it more than he'd realized.

He brushed careful fingers over one of the etched characters, cursing the gaps in his memory. He'd recovered most of what he'd lost, but there were still some holes.

"I see you have discovered our mystery."

Daniel looked up and nodded at Merrick. "Mystery?" he inquired.

"Yes," the young man replied, squatting down to trail his fingers over the etchings. "Some say it is a record of our ancestors; others believe it is the chronicle of a powerful despotic race who brought us here from another world."

Powerful and despotic … that description fit the Goa'uld to a tee. Yet this language wasn't any Goa'uld variant with which Daniel was familiar. And this world wasn't on the Abydos cartouche.

Merrick eyed him curiously. "Can you read it?" he asked.

"No," Daniel admitted, "but I may be able to translate it when we get home." He motioned to his camera. "Hence the pictures."

"You are unable to retain these images in your mind?" Tralin now asked, her gaze shifting shyly between Daniel and Jack, but lingering more often on Jack. Hmmm. Seemed Jack had won himself another admirer. Daniel wondered if Jack had any idea, or whether he really was as clueless about women as he appeared.

"Dan-yel?"

The soft fingers briefly touching his arm brought him back. "Oh … a photographic memory, we call it," he said, addressing Tralin's question. "Some of our people have it; I don't."

"Ah. And that is why you need your papers and your images," Merrick said. "It is said that we were once dependent on such tools, but after the diaspora, we began to develop the powers of the mind."

"Powers?" That came from Jack, who scooped up a giggling Krys, tucked her under his arm, to her delight, and walked over to them. "Such as …?"

His typical wary, cynical face was now on show and Daniel could have sighed for the man's lack of people skills. Except he knew Jack rarely did anything by accident.

Tralin blushed as she looked into Jack's guarded eyes. "Do not worry, Jack," she said, her exotic accent making his name sound more like 'Zhack'. "There is nothing invasive in our abilities. We simply have very vivid accurate memories." She smiled at him. "It is said that when two of our souls are united, they will be able to know each other's mind, their heart."

"Ah," was all Jack said.

But it didn't take any kind of ESP for Daniel to realize that Jack didn't believe her.

Tralin blinked then blushed again before tearing her gaze away from Jack's now suspicious eyes. "Krys really likes you," she said, stroking back the toddler's disheveled curls.

Jack coughed lightly then swung the infant up so that she now perched on his hip. "Well, she's a baby – what does she know?" he commented dryly.

Much as Daniel respected the man, loved him like a brother, Jack could be very dislikeable when he was in surly mode. And he was approaching that mode now.

Then two chubby arms wound around his neck. "Jack; no be sad," Krys said.


	5. Chapter 5

**PART 5**

Jack regarded the young woman cautiously. She seemed very uncomfortable around him, making him wonder if there truly was more to these people's mind powers than she claimed. He wouldn't want anyone to see the dark memories that littered his mind, the sorrow, the hardship, the violence.

He started when Krys gave him a neck hug. "Jack; no be sad," she said.

Pulling his thoughts back from the abyss, he aimed a small smile at her. He wasn't too sure about her relatives, but he was all kinds of nuts for this little bundle of charm.

He stroked her chubby cheek with his forefinger, then looked over to where Sam was standing, watching a herd of horse-like creatures gallop past. A big smile lit her beautiful features and her hair fluttered in the breeze.

And his foolish old heart fluttered with it.

She was no kid, but plenty of men were drawn to the lovely Doctor. She had brains, she had beauty, she was one hell of a soldier despite her civilian status, and she was still a good person.

Much better than Jack had ever been, or could ever hope to become.

It was perhaps that very difference that drew him to her – darkness to light.

He brought himself back to his surroundings as Krys bounced on his hip, babbling excitedly, and he found himself smiling at the adorable infant. He'd made friends with kids before – they were easily his favorite people – but what the hell was making him so crazy for this little moppet?

* * *

Tralin watched the handsome man as he chatted cheerfully with her daughter and the one called Sam. She had never felt so drawn to a male in all her turns. She had loved Nikos and had mourned his death a half turn before Krys' birth, but that had been the love of a friend.

Nikos and she had been drawn together by their mutual shyness and their love of the arts, and their courtship had progressed naturally. She had liked being with him, cherished his tenderness, his care, but she had never felt shivery at his touch the way she did when she touched Jack.

He was as quiet as Nikos in some ways and seemed to be uncomfortable with his team's obvious affection for him. Yet he was so open, funny and loving with Krys it made her smile.

She'd had a couple of would-be suitors since Nikos' death and they had tried with Krys. Yet neither they nor Krys had become comfortable with each other; not like the growing bond that was almost palpable between the human and her daughter.

It was evident that he was a good father, Tralin mused, surprised that he had never had more children – that he was alone. Maybe Sam could be the one? To someone like Tralin, who had spent a lifetime studying emotions and representing them in clay, it was obvious that they were attracted to each other. Although Jack seemed to be fighting his feelings for some reason that was not apparent to Tralin. Jack's mind was unusually opaque for a human, and she didn't want to probe.

As they walked along, Krys moved from rubbing her eyes with her fists to rubbing her whole face into Jack's chest. The man smiled tenderly and rubbed a gentle hand over her head. "I think it's someone's naptime," he declared, handing the girl over with evident reluctance.

Their hands tangled as Tralin took her daughter and, once again, she felt that unusual shivery sensation possess her. The man's hands were warm, roughened by years and the elements, with slender yet strong fingers that were equally comfortable holding a small child or that nasty black weapon.

Krys gave a sigh and snuggled into Tralin. "I should get home," she said, not without regret. These people were fascinating to her. "Perhaps I will see you later."

"Maybe," Jack said non-committally, then brushed a gentle finger over Krys' cheek. "Sleep well, munchkin," he added.

Krys puckered up her lips. "Kiss," she demanded.

The tall human dipped his unruly gray head and bestowed a smacking kiss to her chubby cheek.

And Tralin felt her heart turn over once again. Heavens; she couldn't possibly be in love with the enigmatic human already!

Could she?

* * *

Sam watched as Merrick and Tralin walked away, feeling oddly mean at her sense of relief. Tralin was a beautiful young woman with an equally beautiful baby – there had been a soft tender light in Jack's eyes that she had never seen before.

And she wanted that tender warmth to be bestowed on her. He had such a good heart, yet he was alone. That just wasn't right.

On the slippery slope to 40, and she was also alone. Marriage wasn't the be-all and end-all, but sometimes she thought it would be nice to come home to something other than her plants.

But hadn't she tried that and failed? It seemed she was chronically incapable of forming a lasting, healthy relationship, now choosing to fixate on a man who showed no awareness of her as a woman.

"Yo! Doc!" the man himself said. "This way."

Sam blinked and pulled herself together. "Ah, right," she replied.

"So … Doc; off in la-la land, were ya?" Jack teased as they caught up with Teal'c and Daniel, who was taking notes at a statue and talking at a million miles per hour.

"Afraid so," Sam said ruefully.

"And what was that giant brain of yours thinking?" Jack asked, sitting down with his back to a boulder and his long legs stretched out.

She sat down near him. "Oh, just about what might have been," she said. "Thinking about my regrets."

He turned his head, warm brown eyes regarding her steadily. "Take it from someone who knows, Doc; you can't change the past and dwelling on it only hurts all the more."

"I know," Sam agreed. She had to put Jack O'Neill out of her mind if she was ever to find happiness. He was never going to see her as anything other than a friend.

Jack drew up his right knee and began massaging it. "Ahh, I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled, his fingers working his no doubt swollen joint.

Sam's mind went off someplace else as she watched those slim fingers move. His hands were warm and gentle, the fingers mobile and elegant. What would they feel like touching her hair, stroking her skin, exploring her body …?

"Doc? You okay?"

Sam blushed and dragged her mind out of the gutter. "Uh, yes, I'm fine," she said. "Mind wandered there." She grinned at him. "I must be getting old, too," she added.

"If you're old, Sam, then I'm Methuselah," the man commented, pulling off his cap and allowing the breeze to ruffle his perpetually untidy hair.

She smiled slightly at the sight; he was just so damn delicious! Try as she might; she couldn't picture this man with slicked-down hair and stuffed into Class A's on a regular basis. He was so uncomfortable with the trappings of power.

His power came from within, not from shiny stars or the dozens of medals that decorated his broad chest. He emanated strength and resolve, and inspired loyalty like no-one she'd ever known before.

Sam sighed softly – partly in longing, partly in exasperation. "You're not old," she argued, her hand coming up of its own volition to stroke the unruly strands back. What did his hair feel like? Was it as silky as it looked or was it coarse? She tucked her fingers into her own hair just in time and curled it around her ear.

God. She really wanted to touch him. His hair, his skin, his lips, those cheekbones, that delicious crease between his brows.

There was more to a relationship than sex, but Sam still couldn't understand why he was alone. And there was no way she could find out. Jack O'Neill was a very private man – very reserved in some respects – and she respected him too much to intrude.

And now Jack sighed. "Maybe not so old in years, Sam," he replied, "but what I've seen, what I've been through, it … ages a man."

He was weary, Sam realized with a pang. His strong, fit body and his noble giving heart were more than willing to keep going, but he was soul-deep tired. "Is that why you left SG-1?" she inquired.

Jack dipped his head. "It was time," he said. "Plus, a Jaffa shooting me in the shoulder helped me make my mind up." He smiled slightly. "There's no way back into the field for me now, but at least I still have my finger in the pie. Retirement would just drive me bat-shit crazy after what I've seen these last years."

Sam blinked. That was quite possibly the longest speech she'd ever heard the man make, and she was honored that he trusted her with this little glimpse into his soul. "Well, I for one am glad you stayed," she offered. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you."

"Ah … back atcha." He gave her an abashed grin and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, Doc; I've ordered in plenty of blue Jell-O for ya. You can stop kissing up now."

"I'm touched," she returned in the same teasing tone, reaching up to clasp his hand briefly.

His fingers tightened suddenly around hers. "Sam; you know you're one of my best friends, right?" the man inquired.

"Uhm … thank you," Sam replied, trying not to shiver as his thumb stroked her hand. Such a chaste touch, but it meant so much coming from the introverted man.

"Jack! Sam!" Daniel called, appearing suddenly near them. "What d'you want for lunch?" He looked at them assessingly. "Uh … am I interrupting something, guys?" he inquired.

"No," they replied in unison.

"Oh-kay." Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well, we're just over there," he added, gesturing over to Teal'c, who had built a small fire and was breaking out the MREs.

"Mmmm, MREs," Jack intoned, pushing himself to his feet with a small groan for his knee. "Well, lay on, Macduff!" he ordered.


	6. Chapter 6

**PART 6**

The day sped inexorably to its conclusion, much to Jack's sorrow. It had been a while since he'd been off world, and Sam had picked a great place for her 'tenth mission' celebration.

Interesting rocks and people for Daniel, a good level of technology for Sam, and a fascinating astronomy for him.

Along with an adorable little bundle of love.

Although he was certain Sam hadn't planned on the latter. Well … pretty certain.

Said adorable little bundle of love sat next to him, playing with a stuffed toy that looked oddly like Barney, as Jack enjoyed the evening air. Tralin and Merrick had had to leave for an emergency meeting of the town council, and Jack had offered to look after Krys in their absence.

He'd been surprised when the offer had shot out of his mouth, and had been even more surprised when Tralin had accepted. They'd only met that day! For all she knew, he could be some sicko who preyed on single mothers and their kids! How the hell could she entrust her only child to a stranger?

Was this another one of her 'powers of the mind'? Could she actually … if not read his mind, see his personality? Jack wasn't sure he liked that. Far too many aliens had futzed with his head over the years.

A mammoth yawn came from his tiny companion and Jack quickly swallowed his own yawn, grimacing when his jaw clicked. "You sleepy, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Nuh-uh." Krys shook her head vigorously even as another yawn threatened to swallow her face.

Jack chuckled. "Little liar!" he accused gently, recalling how Charlie would fight sleep right up until the bitter end.

Krys pouted, rubbing her eyes with her fists. Then she abandoned the Barney-like thing and scrambled into Jack's lap, clutching a fistful of his BDU jacket. "Story," she demanded.

Jack thought frantically. It had been a long time since he'd had to tell a bedtime story – and then that had been with a boy. What could he tell a girl?

Then inspiration hit him. _Thank you, Frank L. Baum!_

* * *

Sam chuckled softly as she recognized the unmistakable adventures of Dorothy Gale being told to an alien child. She knew he'd given several alien kids copies of the famous book – she wondered how many other worlds had now read 'The Wizard of OZ'. 

Next to her, Daniel groaned. "And another world's been corrupted," he said sotto voce.

Sam giggled, and Jack's dark eyes snapped up to skewer her and Daniel. "No appreciation for great literature," he groused, then went back to his story.

Sam had seen the movie a couple of times, and had quite enjoyed it. But she didn't get why it so appealed to the rough tough military man.

He was such a contradiction; one that she couldn't hope to understand in several lifetimes.

A warm hand suddenly snagged hers and Jack pulled her down to sit next to him. "Listen and learn, Doc," he ordered.

Wow; when had he turned into Mister Touchy-Feely all of a sudden? He always fiddled with stuff when he visited her in her lab, making her very nervous, but he wasn't big on human contact.

Giving in not too reluctantly, she leaned her head back against the tree trunk and listened to the famous old story. Jack's voice was pitched low, soothing and she found herself fighting the urge to rest her head on his broad chest and nod off.

Krys suffered no such indecision. She held a fistful of his BDU jacket in one tiny hand and snuggled comfortably into his chest.

Sam frowned slightly. Was it weird that she was jealous of a toddler?

* * *

Jack sighed as they stepped onto the ramp leading into the SGC's gate room. That was likely the last time he'd ever go through the gate again and he'd missed it more than he'd realized. At least nothing had gone FUBAR on this mission. "No debrief, kids," he said. It wasn't necessary as he'd been there. "Let's hit the Infirmary." 

He led the way to the Infirmary, trying desperately to quell the pounding of his heart. He really cared for Janet Fraiser, respected her as a person, but even after thirty years of pre and post-mission check-ups, he was still freaked out by the needles. It was such a stupid, dumb phobia and he was damned if anyone would ever know about it. But still …

Daniel and Teal'c went in first, and were done quickly. Then Jack waved Sam in ahead of him, surprised when she blanched. "Uhm, Jack …?"

"Yeah?"

"I … uh … really hate needles," she said, round blue eyes pleading with him. "Do I need to …?" Then she stopped and drew herself upward. She took a deep breath. "Yeah; I do," she said, and made her way behind the curtain.

Before backing promptly out and crashing into Jack.

His hands came up of their own volition to close on her slender yet strong shoulders. She shivered, and he dipped his head to murmur; "If it makes you feel any better, Doc, I hate the things too."

Understatement of the century.

* * *

His hands were long and slim – strong and capable – and the heat of his body as his broad chest came into contact with her back sent a shiver through her. Oh Gods, she wanted him! "Okay," she said, wishing she could just turn round and slide her arms round him, press her face into his neck, suck on the tanned skin … 

She slapped herself mentally. _You're in the Infirmary, idiot! _She stepped back reluctantly. "Okay," she said once more, then made her way back into the curtained-off cubicle, smiling at Janet. "Sorry," she told her best friend.

Janet regarded her with a smile, sherry-brown eyes curious. "Don't worry, Sam; no needles today," she said.

Sam flopped onto the bed. "Jan; I love you," she declared dramatically.

"Uh-huh," Janet said, wrapping a pressure cuff around Sam's upper arm and inflating it. "Blood pressure's good, but you look a little anemic." She filled out the form she held on a clipboard. "You really need to start eating better." She shook her tiny finger under Sam's nose. "And blue Jell-O isn't eating!"

"Yes, Mom," Sam laughed.

"I'm serious," Janet said, rubbing her stethoscope to warm it before placing it on Sam's chest. "I'm cooking out on Sunday – you want to come?"

Sam wavered – there was an important experiment she wanted to run this weekend – and Janet seemed to sense this, because she brought out the big guns. "It's Allie's fifth birthday, and she'd love to see you."

"Well, how can I say no?" Sam replied.

"You can't. Take a deep breath," Janet said, switching seamlessly from Mom to Doctor. "Heart and lungs sound. You're all clear, Sam."

"Can I go then?" Sam said, hopping off the bed.

"Sure," Janet replied with a smile. "Send General O'Neill in next, please."

"I will," Sam said.

She stepped out of the cubicle and nodded at her favorite military man. And … what a man! "You're up," she told him.

"Ah." He coughed, adjusted his BDUs with restless fingers then strode unwaveringly into the cubicle.

* * *

"No needles, General," Doc Fraiser immediately reassured him. He'd never told anyone about his phobia, but the pint-sized CMO was some kind of damn psychic – she knew it anyway. 

"Ah." He coughed again, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of whatever antiseptic Fraiser's corpsmen used. "Then have at me, Doc."

"In your dreams, General," the petite woman drawled in a broad Southern accent, topping off the comment with an evil smile and a cheeky wink.

Jack could feel himself blush, and cursed himself. He was over 50 and a Major General in the US frickin' Air Force – shouldn't he have gotten past the blushing thing by now? "Colonel," he said gravely, reminding her that he was a superior officer.

Janet nodded her head. "Yes, sir," she responded. "If you'll roll up your sleeve for me, we'll begin."

He did as he was told then picked up a couple of tongue depressors when she disappeared to chivvy one of her minions. He tapped a rapid tattoo and smirked. Heh; not bad! Jack O'Neill, rock star!

"Sir." The chastisement floated through the curtains.

He gave a guilty start. "Right; sorry," he mumbled, dropping the depressors back into their cup.

See? The woman was a psychic.

"General; it's Allie's fifth birthday on Sunday – can you make it over? I'm cooking out," the tiny woman added, coming back into the cubicle and placing a cold stethoscope onto his chest.

Jack sucked in a sharp breath at the coldness of the metal – evil Doc – then smiled at her. "I'll be there with bells on," he said. He'd always loved little Allie and it was mutual; Jack was her favorite uncle for being silly with. Daniel was the uncle who knew lots and Teal'c was a human jungle gym. It amazed Jack how she'd escaped being a brat, but figured that was more due to the Doc's teaching than anything else.

Fraiser smiled at him again – her usual smile, not the flirtatious evil one she'd given him earlier, he noted with relief. "Great," she said, making notations on her clipboard. "Everything's looking good, sir," she said, "although you could use a couple extra pounds."

Jack sighed at the familiar complaint. Could he help it if he had a fast metabolism? It wasn't like he didn't eat, for cryin' out loud! "On that note, I think I'll head for the commissary," he said. "They've got pound cake today." He sighed dramatically. "The things I do for you, Doc!"

"Oh yes; I can see how much you're suffering," Fraiser shot back dryly. "Off you go then, sir."

Jack strolled out of the Infirmary and headed for the commissary, where he saw his other favorite Doc sitting at the unofficial SG-1 table, staring into a bowl of blue Jell-O, absorbed in it. Who knew it merited that kind of interest?

He went over to the counter and snagged a large slice of pound cake, then grabbed a fork and sat down next to Sam. "Hi, Doc," he said.

She blinked out of her reverie, then her big eyes widened at the size of his cake. "Hungry?" she asked.

"I can always eat," Jack said, cutting off a hunk and shoving it into his mouth. He moaned softly as the rich vanilla hit his tastebuds – it had to be Sergeant Thermopolis on duty today; she was the only one who could make cake this good!

"Good?" Sam asked, her voice husky.

"Yep," Jack said around the cake. He swallowed hard when Sam licked her lips, praying that she wasn't going to start flirting again. He'd become comfortable around her lately, but if sex came into the equation …


	7. Chapter 7

**PART 7**

**Sunday:**

Sam looked at herself in the hall mirror at Janet's house. Hair in a loose flirty ponytail, blue denim shorts displaying her long legs – she often regarded her legs as her best feature – and a skinny gray tee shirt with a scooped neckline that clung to her rounded breasts. _Real subtle, Sam_, she chided herself.

But Jack was such a sexy man; she wanted him so much. She'd woken up several nights in a row this week breathing hard, recovering from very erotic dreams of dark eyes, slim talented fingers and soft lips. It was time to see if she could make dreams into reality.

She knew he liked her, found her attractive, yet he seemed to be fighting it. Although she was technically under his command as CO of the SGC, she was a civilian and reported directly to the Head of R&D at Area 51. So, what was with him?

Speak of the devil …

She heard the roar of his truck as he pulled into Janet's driveway, then heard Allie's joyful shriek of greeting. "My best girl!" she heard Jack exclaim over Allie's giggling. The door opened and the man walked in, Allie riding his broad shoulders.

And Sam had to remind herself to breathe.

She supposed there was nothing special about the outfit he was wearing. He was dressed in khaki cut-offs and a black tee, an outfit that looked very much like his standard BDUs. Except this tee molded lovingly to his strong arms and chest, while the shorts seemed designed specifically to showcase his long legs and tight butt. And instead of the heavy black combat boots, his feet were shod in well-worn hiking sandals, showing off surprisingly sexy toes.

_God, Sam_, she mused, _you've really got it bad if you think his toes are sexy!_

"Hey, Doc," he greeted her cheerily, letting Allie slide off his shoulders. Allie raced through the house, presumably to the back garden. Jack smiled then his eyes slipped down to Sam's chest and decided to set up camp. "Nice … uh … nice shirt," he said.

Sam smiled; mission accomplished! There was no sign of the stick-up-his-butt General persona he sometimes effected at the SGC. "Thanks," she said.

He coughed, then his eyes left her breasts and he blushed deeply. He waved his hand at the big cooler he'd dragged in with him. "Ah … the gang's out back, I guess?" he said.

"Yeah," Sam said. She grabbed one of the cooler's handles. "I'll give you a hand with this."

"Thanks." He grabbed the other handle and she shivered when his hot hand brushed against hers, instantly recalling just what those hands had been doing during her heated dreams of the previous night.

"You okay, Doc?" the man inquired softly.

"Oh! Yes, fine," Sam replied, dragging her mind out of the gutter. "Sorry. Just … thinking."

"Ah." He looked at her bashfully then bit at his lower lip. "Sam. I'm not … you know … a touchy-feely, new age guy, but I'm your friend. If you need to talk …"

Oh God, he was so adorable! Sam sighed; if she didn't have that cooler in her hand, she would've hugged him. "I know," she told him, reflecting that he'd probably have kittens if she told him what had been going through her dirty little mind lately. "It's … guy trouble."

"Oh." A fierce look shot into his dark eyes, making him look far less adorable and much more deadly. But no less sexy. "Anyone you want leaning on?" he asked seriously.

"No!" Sam shot out, glad that she had no-one at present – she didn't doubt for a second that Jack O'Neill could seriously hurt someone. "No," she added more calmly. When he continued to regard her doubtfully, she sighed once more. "I don't want to get into it now, but trust me; I'm not a battered girlfriend."

His dark eyes flickered over her face, no doubt searching for bruises or signs of stiffness then he nodded his head. "Well … good," he said.

Silence fell, a not-uncomfortable one, as they made their way out into Janet's back garden, lugging the big cooler along. "Hey, guys!" Sam caroled, dropping her end of the cooler and scooping up her niece into a big hug.

"Auntie Sam!" Allie shrieked. "Come play in the pool!"

Sam eyed Janet's pool longingly – it was perfect weather for a dip, and what better way to show Jack what he was missing out on? "Okay," she said, and pulled off the shorts and tee shirt to reveal a modest one-piece that nevertheless emphasized her long legs and cleavage. She'd never been one for frou-frou, and had found that the maxim 'less is more' worked for her. "You joining us, Jack?" she inquired.

Then smirked to herself. The man's gaze was fixed once more on her chest, and he seemed to be experiencing difficulty with his breathing. "Jack?" she prompted.

"Ah …". The man coughed, then shook his head. "Uh … maybe later, Doc."

"Aww … Uncle Ja-ack!" Allie whined then sent a pair of pleading puppy-dog eyes up to him. "Please?"

"Yeah, Uncle Ja-ack. Don't be a party-pooper," Sam teased, batting her eyelashes at him.

Jack chuckled. "Pair of brats," he grumbled. "Just … ah … let me go get changed." And he hurried away, but not before Sam saw the flush burning the tips of his ears.

Yep; it was official.

The man was adorable.

And she had it bad.

* * *

Jack headed up to the spare bathroom, desperately willing away the flush brought on by the sight of Sam's beautifully proportioned body. Long legs, slender waist, curved hips and a rounded bosom danced in his vision, and he shook his head fiercely. Hadn't he learned by now that he was unsuited for home and hearth? And he'd never been the sort to go in for one-night stands. Not even when his marriage had been on the rocks had he sought the comfort of another woman. 

He'd been alone for many years now – was fine with that. So … why now? Why this particular woman? Yes, she was beautiful, but she was also fifteen years his junior. She was also light-hearted, open, giving … all things he could never be, had forgotten how to be.

Jack had spent many years taming his rebellious, passionate nature – trying to conform to the Air Force's ideals, trying to make Sara happy – until self-control and restraint had become second nature to him. He sometimes recognized that he was lonely, but it was difficult to get out of the prison he'd made for himself. Besides, if he stayed alone, then people wouldn't get hurt. That was more important than satisfying urges.

His cell rang, interrupting his dark thoughts, and he started, then flipped open the phone, noting the caller ID. "Charlie!" he said in pleasure.

"Hey, Dad; where are you?"

"Uh; I'm round Janet Fraiser's – it's Allie's fifth birthday today," Jack said. "Why?"

"Cool; I'm at home, so is it okay for me to come over?"

_Dumb-ass kid. _"You don't even need to ask," Jack replied.

"Excellent! I'll be there in twenty," Charlie said, then disconnected.

With a big grin, Jack began to change for his dip in the pool, wondering if Charlie was going to be bringing another girl with him. His son was outgoing, athletic and popular, much like Jack at that age, and seemed to have a new girl each week.

He wriggled into his swim shorts then eyed himself in the mirror, noting grimly all the signs of age. His chest was still firm and toned, but his waist had definitely softened. And was that more silver in his hair? He sucked in his stomach before slapping himself mentally. _What's with the vanity all of a sudden, dumb-ass?_

He shook his head and made his way out of the bathroom, then headed outside to where Allie and Sam were now splashing happily in the pool. And he found himself sucking in a breath again, but for an entirely different reason. Sam Carter was a beautiful woman – he'd recognized that the first time he'd seen her – but to see her laughing and cavorting with the little girl set his old heart pounding.

Dammit all to hell.

He was in deep guano.

Sam laughed as Allie wriggled away with a squeal then turned to face Jack. Her eyes widened, then darkened, and he could see her swallow hard. Resisting the urge to suck in his stomach, he headed down the steps into the pool and caught at Allie. "Hey, monster!" he said. "Guess who's coming by to see you?"

The little girl frowned then put her finger in her mouth to consider his question. "Umm … Santa?"

_In the middle of July? _"Nope."

"Dora and Boots?"

_Who? _"Uh; nope."

"Uncle Ja-ack!" Allie narrowed her eyes at him in a way that reminded him of her diminutive – yet oh so scary – mother. "Who's comin' to see me?"

"Well, his name begins with a C …," Jack teased.

Sam chuckled and rubbed his calf under the water with her bare foot. "You are evil, General O'Neill," she told him.

"It's Charlie!" Allie squealed, effectively drowning out Jack's heavy swallow as Sam's foot rubbed up and down his calf. Did the woman have any idea what she was doing to him?

Then he saw the mischievous glint in her eyes.

Oh, she knew all right.

* * *

Sam watched as Allie splashed around excitedly, enjoying Jack's interaction with the little girl, but had to admit that she watched Jack much more than her niece. 

He looked sexy as hell in just those baggy shorts, displaying a strong firm chest with a light covering of hair that arrowed down to under the shorts, which covered his slim hips and that delectable butt. There was a slight softening of age at his middle, but no extraneous weight. He was just … gorgeous.

And just how the hell did he maintain that deep tan when he worked god-forsaken hours inside the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain?

She chewed on her lip and debated the merits of licking him all over, then chuckled when he looked over at her. "S'matter, Doc?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," she assured him blithely.

Nothing at all. Except for the ache that had taken up residence at her core. It had been over a year since her split from Pete and she wasn't the type to go in for one-night stands.

That could explain the heated dreams she'd had recently, she realized. Well, she'd certainly picked a good star for them!, she added mentally, licking her lips as the wet cotton of his shorts molded tightly to his firm rounded butt.

Oh, yummy.

The man really was delicious.


	8. Chapter 8

**PART 8**

"Charlie!" Allie screamed, flying down the garden and flinging her sodden form at the young man that had stepped out of Janet's back door.

Jack chuckled and Sam looked at him in inquiry. "She's got a huge crush on him," he explained, then got out of the pool himself and held out a hand to pull Sam out. "C'mon; I'll introduce you," he added.

Sam was surprised when he helped her out of the pool – she was even more surprised when he didn't drop her hand as they went over to his son. He was a lot fairer in coloring than Jack, being sandy-haired with gray eyes, but he had Jack's quirky grin and adorable dimples. All in all, a good-looking young man – no wonder Allie was smitten.

Charlie greeted his dad with a big back-slapping hug then looked at Sam curiously. "Dad? Care to introduce us?" he asked.

"Ah. Right." Jack cleared his throat and let go of Sam's hand. "Charlie; Sam. Sam; Charlie. Sam's the new Head of Science at the base."

Charlie grinned. "So; you're the much talked about Sam?" he said. He looked her up and down with an appraising glint surprising in such a young man. "Yeah," he added. "I can definitely see what the old man sees in you."

Sam didn't have to look at Jack to know that the older man was blushing. "It's nice to meet you," she said formally, not sure that she appreciated his tone. She was twice his age, for crying out loud!

"Charlie," Jack reprimanded quietly, the blush carving up his high cheekbones.

"What?" Charlie asked, eyes dancing and dimples showing. He tucked a hand through Sam's arm. "Am I being a jerk?" he added, putting on puppy-dog eyes.

Sam had to laugh. The young man was full of mischief, and she realized suddenly what a trial Jack must have been at that age – before life had beaten him down. "Yeah, but that's okay – genetics will tell."

"Hey!" both Charlie and Jack protested.

Sam laughed again.

"And no giggling, Doc!" Jack added.

* * *

**Later that day:**

Charlie cornered Jack in the kitchen as Jack was retrieving a soda for himself. "So … she seems nice," he said.

Jack eyed Charlie warily. His son had tried to set him up a couple times, saying that even 'old guys' needed to 'get some' otherwise it might fall off. Nice. "Yes," he agreed cautiously, sticking his head back in the refrigerator. He could swear he'd seen cake in there.

"And she's nice-looking too."

"Uh-huh." The damn kid was being about as subtle as a Jaffa.

"She likes you, I can tell."

"Are you goin' someplace particular with this?" Jack asked, finally unearthing the cake. Banana with walnut frosting – sweeeeeet.

"I'm just sayin'."

"Yeah; well … just 'say' something else," Jack commanded grumpily. "Say why your GPA slipped last semester, for instance."

"Ah …". Charlie coughed then waggled his eyebrows at his father. "You win, Dad," he conceded.

Jack smirked to himself. "Thought as much." He slammed the refrigerator door shut. _Time to turn the tables. _"Where's Alison?"

"Oh, we split up a couple weeks ago," Charlie said. "She was getting too serious." Unusually for a teenager, he seemed to have no problem discussing his love life with his father. He snagged Jack's soda and took a couple of gulps. "You know me, Dad – can you really see me doing the white picket fence thing? Ever?"

"Not all marriages end badly, Charlie," Jack pointed out. "For a long time, your mom and I were happy together. If that's the only thing stopping you from getting serious, you're dumber than you look."

Charlie snorted. "Perhaps you should take some of your own advice, Oprah," he said, indicating Sam, who was presently stretched out on a recliner, chatting with Janet and one of the base nurses while putting sun cream on her … self.

Jack watched, mesmerized, as the younger woman carefully applied the lotion, working the cream into every inch of her pale exposed skin. Then he jerked his gaze away before she caught him gaping at her like some damn hormonal adolescent. "Ah … huh? What?" he managed to get out.

Yeah. He was cool.

"Geez, Dad; don't be such a geek," his son advised him. "Just ask the woman out. You know you want to."

"Yeah? And?"

_Crap._

"I knew you liked her," Charlie crowed. "Oh, speaking of sexy doctors … here she comes now."

Jack blushed as said sexy doctor strolled into the kitchen, skin glistening from the sun cream. "Hi, guys," she said merrily. "What're you doing hiding in here? And Charlie; Janet says to get your butt out there and go give her a hug."

Jack was intrigued when his usually cool son blushed to the roots of his hair. The lad had had a small adolescent crush on the petite redhead when he was younger, but Jack thought time and distance would've put paid to that. Heh. Maybe he could get his own back on his interfering offspring.

"Ah. Yeah; okay." Charlie ran a hand through his hair and headed out obediently.

Jack snickered and Sam gazed at him with wide eyes. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Seems Charlie has a bit of a crush on the Queen of Giant Needles," he told her.

"Ah." Sam smiled slightly. "Now, if he were only twenty years older, and Janet was inclined in any way to trust a guy again …"

"Yeah." Jack scowled. "That jerk, whoever he was, sure did a number on her."

Sam's smile grew bigger. "Ease up there, Daddy," she said, sliding her hand round his back and squeezing his waist affectionately. "You can't fight everyone's battles for them, you know."

"Uh-huh," Jack managed to croak, distracted by the feel of her cool little hand on his suddenly burning skin.

Sam pulled her hand away and gazed at the pale smooth skin in discontent. "God, you have a great tan! I hate you."

"Hey; people who smother themselves in sun cream don't age as quickly," Jack pointed out. "When you're my age, you'll probably look ten years younger."

"Oh, I know all that," Sam said. "I just … compared to you, I look like I've been dead a week."

"You've obviously never seen someone who's been dead a week," Jack told her.

"Oh, and you have?"

"Yeah," Jack replied heavily.

* * *

Sam looked at the handsome man, worried. His jaw was tense, his eyes nearly black and his brow furrowed. "Hey, come back," she said, slipping her arms around him in an easy hug. "You're miles away."

He blinked back from wherever he'd been – someplace not so nice, by the look of it – but every line of his powerful body radiated tension. Then Sam realized that she still had her arms around him, and let go. "Sorry," he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair till it stood up ridiculously.

Someday she would find out why he was so uncomfortable with physical affection, but she didn't want to push him today. "Hey, we all have bad memories," she consoled him, patting one of his strong shoulders briefly.

"Yeah," he agreed then heaved a deep sigh. "Uh … Doc. I was … ah … wondering if maybe … you'd like …"

_Is he asking me out?_, Sam wondered then, because she'd never been shy, she put a hand on each side of his face. "If you're trying to ask me out, Jack, I'd love to," she told him.

"I mean … I know I'm a lot older than you … and dumber than a box of bricks in comparison, but …," the man rambled. Then his brows drew together. "Huh?"

"I, Doctor Samantha Carter, would love to go out with you, General Jack O'Neill," she reiterated.

"Ah." He gave her a bashful smile. "Smooth, aren't I?" he said self-deprecatingly.

"Real smooth." She resisted the urge to tell him she actually thought he was rather sweet. "So … when?"

"Uh … well … what about Saturday? You like Italian?"

"Love it," Sam assured him.

"Great." The man blew out a breath. "There's a new restaurant opened in the Springs. I've been a couple times. It's not fancy, but great food, great service." Then he looked worried. "Unless you'd prefer something fancy …"

"No." Sam shook her head emphatically. "Fancy's all right, but it's not really me. I'd much rather stuff my face with pizza and chew the fat with a friend than eat dinky portions of salmon covered in sauce."

Jack beamed suddenly at her, and her breath caught. She sometimes forgot just how entirely gorgeous he was. "You're my kinda woman, Doc!" he declared, bouncing on his toes a little.

Why had she ever thought he had a stick up his butt? His eyes danced merrily, adorable dimples slashed up his cheeks and his hair stuck up comically. "So … uh …". _Breathe, woman! _"What time? Seven? Seven thirty?"

"Yeah. I'll pick you up about seven," Jack said.

"You don't have to," Sam objected.

"A-ah! It might have been a while, but even I remember that the guy picks up the gal." He grinned mischievously at her. "Generation gap, y'know, Doc!"

"God, you're adorable," Sam told him.

He regarded her solemnly, that solemnity belied by the twinkle in his eyes. "You're kinda weird, Sam," he replied, "but that's okay. Maybe you can stop me turning into an old fart ahead of my time."

"You're not an old fart," Sam said, "and you are adorable." She lifted up slightly and placed a warm affectionate kiss on his lips. "Now, let's get back out there before Janet sends out the Cavalry, huh?"

"Uh … yeah," he agreed, the mischief being replaced once more by the furrowed brow.


	9. Chapter 9

**PART 9**

**Saturday:**

Jack eyed the meager selection of clothes in his wardrobe apprehensively. The place wasn't fancy, but jeans were too scruffy. His Class A's? No. Even he knew that the last thing someone wore voluntarily was a dress uniform. He sighed heavily and yanked out a pair of black slacks with a butter-soft black cashmere sweater he'd had since God was a boy.

He changed rapidly into the comfortable clothes then regarded himself soberly in the mirror. God, he was looking old; when the hell had that happened?

"Dad; it's past six thirty," his son called from the living room.

"Ah … right," Jack called back then cleared his throat. "Thanks," he said rather more clearly. He stuffed his feet into his only dress shoes, then raked a comb through his hair, trying to give it some order. No chance. The cowlick at the back firmly refused to flatten, and Jack sighed. "Charlie!"

"Yeah?"

"Ah … you got any" – he cringed – "hair gel?"

"What?"

The young man appeared in Jack's bedroom. "Dad; you haven't been out on a date since … like, the Clinton administration. I think your hair's the last thing you should be worrying about."

"Thanks, kid." Like he wasn't nervous enough about how the evening would go!

Charlie sighed. "Look; she's known you a few months now, and she hasn't run away screaming. Just … be yourself." Then he grinned. "But not too much, huh?"

Jack scowled. "I had the chance to give you up for adoption, ya know."

"Too late." Charlie grinned again. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes you're just Jack O'Neill. But other times, you act like an Air Force General with a big ol' stick up his butt."

"I am an Air Force General with a big ol' stick up my butt," Jack shot back, "but I'll do my best." He gave up the losing battle with his hair. Charlie was right – his hair was the last thing he should be worrying about.

* * *

Amazingly, Sam found herself nervous. She'd never been shy around men and her last date had only been a couple months ago – with Daniel Jackson. He was cute with a boyish charm and they'd had a really good time. But there was no spark there, and they'd found themselves becoming fast friends.

Not that she wasn't friends with Jack. She was. In fact, she counted the sometimes hard-nosed military man as one of the best friends she'd ever had. He was gruff and tactless, yet was quite shy and hesitant when it came to personal things. She'd had to tone down her usually flirtatious nature, especially during the first few weeks of their acquaintance, as he'd been so uneasy around her.

But she hadn't been able to resist giving him that gentle, not quite chaste, kiss at Allie's party. He really was adorable. She'd been surprised that he hadn't found some excuse to wriggle out of tonight then put it down to his military upbringing – _never back down._

However, she just hoped that he could tone down his adorable qualities tonight, or she just might push onto the nearest flat surface and ravish him. And that, she knew, would kill any faint hope she had of building a stronger relationship with him.

She eyed her reflection, pleased with the way the soft dove-gray fabric of her dress skimmed her curves, the skirt flaring at her hips to float around her slim calves. Her height was further accentuated by the three-inch heels – she loved that he would still be taller than her – and her hair had been teased into soft curls.

The doorbell chimed and she headed to the door, pausing to swing a light wrap over the pale expanse of her shoulders, accentuated by the spaghetti straps of her dress. She opened the door and saw Jack standing stiffly there, dressed all in black (_yowser_), his slacks creased to military perfection and shoes shining glossily. He held a bunch of carnations (how did he know they were her favorite flower?) tightly and his other arm worked in small motions as if antsy.

"Ah … hey," he said. "You look … beautiful."

"Thanks," she replied. "So do you."

He tilted an eyebrow, a la Teal'c, and gave an amused smirk.

"You know what I mean!" Sam giggled then stretched her hand out. "I take it those are for me?"

And another smirk came from the man. "No; they're for the maitre d'."

"Smart ass." Sam giggled again, the almost palpable tension now dissolved.

He handed her the carnations, and she turned to put them into a vase. "They're lovely," she told him. "You have good taste."

"Well, I'm taking you out tonight, aren't I?" he replied then cringed. "Christ. That was really cheesy, wasn't it?"

Sam took pity on him. "It was, but I'll let you off just this once."

"Sorry, Sam," he said, leading her to his truck. "It's been a … long time since I've been on a date, and I was always crap with them."

"Just so you know, Jack," Sam said, settling into the passenger seat, "I really like you. You don't need to break out Emily Post or anything."

"Good to know." He started the car, and they reversed out onto the street. "Ah … mind if I put on some music?"

"That's fine," Sam said, wishing he could get over his nerves. He was trying to hide it, but she could see it in the way his hands clenched around the wheel, and the muscle jerking along his jaw.

They got into the main street and the tension between them grew until the air was thick with it, and Sam was ready to scream. "That's it," she declared suddenly. "Pull over."

"Huh?" He did as he was told nevertheless.

"Jack; this isn't going to work unless you relax," Sam told him. "I don't know what you're expecting to go wrong, but …"

She unclipped her seatbelt, then slid over to him, took his face in her hands and kissed him softly. His mouth remained unresponsive against her, and she pressed the kiss until she felt his lips open and a sigh whisper over her own lips. She kept the kiss sweet, no tongue, just a gentle warm pressure then his hand slid onto her cheek caressingly as his tongue whisked across her lips and into her mouth.

Mmmm, he was a great kisser. She'd suspected that the tightly-buttoned military man had a deep well of sensuality just waiting to be explored. She stroked his tongue with her own, giving just as good as she got, and they battled hotly until the need for oxygen took precedence.

She sat back, managing to resist the urge to fan herself like some Victorian maiden. "Whoa!" she got out. _Huh, where are all the poly-syllables now, Doctor Carter?_

"Yeah," Jack replied huskily. He put the truck back into drive and they headed back out. He looked over at her as she clipped the seatbelt back into place. "You okay?" he asked. "I … ah … didn't mean to come on so strong."

_Aww, he's so sweet._

"If I recall correctly, I was the one who initiated the kiss," Sam pointed out.

"So; you were okay with …?" His free hand fluttered in a circle.

"Hell, yeah." Sam felt her lips curve into a smirk. "Trust me on this, General; a guy who can make me feel what you made me feel with just a kiss will definitely get a second date!"

"Ah." And there was the endearing blush. "Well … cool, then."

"Very."

* * *

Jack breathed in deeply, remembering the warm sweetness of Sam's lips, the hot passion as her tongue did battle with his. And a certain body part made itself known. He shifted slightly, unable to recall the last time he'd gotten a hard-on from just a kiss.

Although … what a kiss!

It seemed that Sam's passion for life was similar to what his had once been, and he regretted that he was no longer that man.

A pale slim hand landed on his thigh and squeezed. "God, Jack; quit worrying, will you?" Sam said softly. "If I hadn't been okay with the kiss, you would've known it."

"Ah …". Jack coughed.

The hand remained on his thigh. "I knew you had a lot of passion," Sam went on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Jack was hardening very near her hand. "Don't feel like you have to rein yourself in on my account."

The witch. Jack slid a hand under the strap of her dress and brushed softly at the tip of her breast. It hardened instantly, she sucked in a startled breath and Jack smirked. "So noted, Doc," he told her.

Sam giggled. "God, I think I've let loose a monster."


	10. Chapter 10

**PART 10**

**Later that evening:**

Sam smiled at the handsome man as he paused outside her door. "I had a really good time tonight," she told him then opened the door. "You want to come in?"

"Yeah; okay," Jack replied, his restless fingers tugging at the neckline of his sweater.

"Hey, take it off if it's bothering you," Sam offered with a grin. "I don't mind."

"Ah … I'm not wearing anything under it," Jack demurred.

"I know." Sam grinned. "Why d'you think I offered?"

A chuckle came from the older man at that. "Brazen hussy," he accused lightly.

"Well, what can I say? I'm a woman who knows what she wants," Sam told him, watching appreciatively as he settled on her settee, stretching out his long legs. Everything he did was so sexy. He just moved great. She sat down next to him and slipped her arms around his neck. "Y'know something? I wouldn't turn down another kiss."

"Uhh …," Jack got out then shrugged. "Your wish is my command, milady," he said then captured her lips with his thinner ones.

Their previous kiss had been passionate, but this one made that seem like an adolescent's first fumbling attempt. His warm soft lips moved against hers, while his hot tongue explored every centimeter of her mouth, before he sucked her tongue into his own mouth. Then his slim hands slid downward to cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing the nipples to a taut readiness through the thin fabric of her dress. Sam moaned into the man's mouth – she was powerless to do anything else – and slipped her own hands under his sweater to caress his strong back and shoulders.

They finally had to break for air, but their hands did not cease their activity. And Sam found that Jack had managed to unzip her dress and push it down to her waist – seemingly without stopping the stimulation of her breasts. "God, Sam," he murmured. "You're beautiful." Then his untidy silver head dropped and he pressed a warm kiss to the curve of each breast.

Oh yes … Now, this was the passionate, vibrant Jack O'Neill she'd known was there. "Bedroom," she managed to get out.

"Hmmm?" His head shot up and he looked at her quizzically.

"We're a bit old for couch acrobatics," she pointed out.

"Speak for yourself," he said cockily, then gave her a little-boy grin. "Okay, though," he added.

They got up and headed to his bedroom, Sam giggling to herself at how childlike he could be at times. It was one of the many things she lov …

She stopped dead. Oh God. Was she in love with him?

* * *

While Jack appreciated the sight of a beautiful blonde stripped to the waist as much as any straight guy, it was a little cold in this hallway. "Uhh, Sam? Whatcha doin'?" he inquired.

The woman shook herself visibly then smiled dazzlingly at him. "Nothing," she told him, then slipped her hand into his, tugging him into a bedroom.

He looked around the spacious airy room. Clean lines, no clutter, restful colors. Very Sam. "Nice room, Doc," he told her, then paused. "Ahh … way to kill the mood, but … uh … you got any … things?"

Her brows drew together. "I have many things, General," she replied. "To what might you be referring?" she added snarkily.

He was over 50 – he could say condoms! "You know; rubbers."

Yeah. He was such an adult.

And she was a smart ass.

Sam giggled again – what was it about him that brought on her giggles? He'd had no idea he was so comedic. "Yes, Jack; I have condoms," she told him.

They sat down together on her bed, and Jack was dismayed to find himself feeling nervous. It had been such a long time since he'd had sex, and he was fairly certain that he would end up disappointing her. She was so much younger than he was.

And his burgeoning erection deflated at the thought.

"Jack; what's the matter?" Sam inquired gently.

Oh God … he couldn't even keep it up anymore! What the hell had he been thinking? The old maxim 'use it or lose it' came to mind, and he groaned softly. He hadn't used it so he'd lost it.

He stood up and headed back out of the bedroom. "Sorry, Doc," he said in a would-be casual tone. "It's not going to happen."

* * *

_What the fuck just happened?_

Sam stared at the empty doorway, hearing Jack move back into her living room in preparation for leaving. They'd had fun tonight, she'd tingled in response to his sweet caresses. Everything had been going great until they'd gotten to the bedroom.

Then he'd backed out.

She'd realized he was having … uh … problems, but there were techniques that could have sorted that out. If he'd only told her the truth. Men and their dumb-ass pride.

"That chicken-shit," she muttered.

She got up and made her way to the living room, running full-tilt into Jack, who had pulled his sweater back on. "What," he grumbled when she grabbed his arm.

Son of a bitch.

She pushed him against the wall and he banged his head on a low-hanging shelf. "Doc; what the hell …?" he yelped, squinting against the pain.

Sam didn't care. "Just what is your problem?" she hissed. "You don't have the right to play with people's feelings. Couldn't you just say 'Sam, things are going too fast'? Were those too many words for you?"

"Uh …". Jack rubbed the back of his head. "What d'you want me to say, Sam? That I'm too damn old to get it up anymore?"

"You were getting it up just fine in the car and in the living room," Sam retorted. "But if you start on this too-old routine of yours, you and your fine ass can get the hell out of here." She grabbed him by the waist and ground her hips into him. "I know you want me, Jack, so quit sulking and let me help you."

He went red. "Uh … how?" he inquired.

"Warm massage oil and an index finger," Sam said succinctly.

He went pale and pushed her away. "Forget it," he snapped.

"It won't hurt," she reassured him. "In fact, it feels really good."

"I said no!" he yelled. "Are you not hearing me?"

His eyes were huge, while his pupils had dilated till his eyes looked almost black. A muscle worked furiously along his jawline, and Sam wondered just what he wasn't telling her. "It's okay," she told him. "I won't do it, if you're so dead against it, but a bad experience shouldn't put you off for life."

"Bad experience." He snorted. "You think I tried it at college and didn't like it?" He heaved a sigh. "In the early 90's, I was … captured by the Iraqis and held prisoner for four months. There are no women in the Iraqi army – the men turned to each other for … entertainment or to their … captives."

* * *

Sam put her hand to her mouth. There were so many cases of women being raped by enemy soldiers, so much counseling available, that one tended to forget that men could be raped too. She slipped her arm around him in a hug, but no words came.

He squeezed her hand, seeming to appreciate the silent support. "I never told anyone," he continued, "though I think Doc Fraiser might know."

"You didn't tell Sara?"

"No." Jack shook his head. "I was a wreck when I came back, and she had enough to deal with." His eyes filled with pain. "When I was reported MIA, she was pregnant. The shock caused her to miscarry, and she was still grieving when I came home."

So he'd shouldered the burden alone. Stubborn, noble, son of a bitch. Sam admired him more than she could say. She'd known some soldiers who'd come back from the Iraq war hardened and bitter. Jack had held onto his humanity under the most degrading of circumstances – was a great dad, a wonderful friend, a caring man.

She gave him a soft sweet kiss on the lips. "It's late, and you're tired," she said. "Come to bed?" His shoulders stiffened, and she stroked his cheek tenderly. "Just to sleep."

He looked at her, scrubbing his hands over his face and blinking tiredly – much like a sleepy child. And Sam felt her heart turn over at the sight. He was so endearing in so many ways – it was no wonder she loved him.

Yes. She did love him. It was time she admitted that – if only to herself.

They went back to her bedroom and she dug out an ancient Academy tee shirt of Mark's for Jack to wear. She turned her back as he changed, knowing he wouldn't appreciate her ogling his fine backside, and she changed into her own sleep attire – baggy pajama shorts with a matching tank top.

She got into the bed and opened the covers in silent invitation. He got in beside her, surprising her when he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Thanks, Doc," he muttered, his head ducking into her neck as he hugged her.

She slipped her own arms around his neck, resting her cheek gently on his messy silver hair. It was surprisingly soft against her skin and she longed to run her fingers through it. "You're welcome," she told him. "Get some sleep now, huh?"

He nodded against her neck then kissed it gently, sending a shudder of need through Sam's body. "Yeah," he said huskily.

They made themselves comfortable and she gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Night, Jack," she told him.

He yawned, evidently worn out by the reliving of his trauma. "G'night, Sam," he mumbled. "Love you."

She stared at him. "Jack?"

But the man had slipped into oblivion.


	11. Chapter 11

**PART 11**

Sam awoke shivering.

Unfortunately, not due to arousal.

The man beside her had stolen the sheets and had wrapped himself in them much like a swaddled baby. He was curled up in an impossibly tight ball, head under a pillow and ass sticking up.

_Very nice ass._

She shivered again. The man might have a nice ass, but he was a serious bed-hog. She put a hand to his shoulder and shoved it. "Hey!"

He sat up, a fist cocked, ready for action.

"Jack!" Sam yelped, not wanting to greet the morning with a fat lip.

He blinked at her sleepily then lowered the fist. "Sorry," he said in a gravelly tone, then began to unravel himself. Once free, he looked at her bashfully. "Hi," he offered.

"Hi," she replied. "You always wake up that suddenly?"

The sleep mists cleared his eyes and he nodded his head. "Yeah," he said. "Too many years in Special Forces." He smiled slightly. "Daniel learned that lesson the hard way – I sent him flying on one of our first missions as SG-1."

Poor Daniel. Sam felt guilty for the chuckle that rose up her throat as she pictured the linguist flying through the air. "So … next time you hog the sheets, should I throw a bucket of water over you?"

He blinked at her. "Uhh … next time?"

"Yes. Next time," Sam reiterated. "Something tells me you're a complete bed-hog." He blinked at her again, jaw working soundlessly, and she sighed. "I still want to be with you, Jack," she told him. "I know you've had problems, but I'm there for you. If you want me."

"Uh. Wow." Jack cleared his throat. "I … ah … don't know what to say."

"Then don't speak," Sam replied. "Just kiss me, you ass."

* * *

That Jack could do. He covered Sam's soft lips with his own, pleased when she instantly opened her mouth to him. Maybe she really wasn't freaked out by what he'd told her. He still couldn't believe he'd told someone, but this was Sam, for cryin' out loud! If he couldn't tell the truth to the woman he loved then to whom could he tell the truth? 

Yeah. He was in love with Doctor Samantha Carter. That shocked the hell out of him.

He broke off the kiss before it got too passionate, feeling very aware of morning breath issues. "Hey," he offered, brushing some hair out of her eyes. He loved how Sam looked first thing, hair disheveled, cheeks pink from sleep, eyes slightly unfocused.

"Uh … hi," she replied. "And you stopped … why?"

"I feel like crap," he told her. "You got a spare toothbrush?"

Sam giggled. "Yes," she said. "Bathroom cabinet, middle left shelf."

"Gotcha." He tilted her head back and bestowed a warm kiss on the hollow of her throat, then nipped gently and bathed the tiny wound. "Back soon."

"Okay," she squeaked. He'd made his favorite brainiac squeak. That was so cool.

Then he rolled his eyes. Yeah. He was real mature.

* * *

Sam shivered with delight. The man had found one of her sweet spots very soon into their relationship. Had he just felt like kissing her there, or had he somehow known? The way his morning stubble had grazed her skin, the warmth of his soft lips, that bold nip and then the hot wet raspiness of his tongue … 

_Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm_

Growing up with two men in the house, she'd gotten accustomed to hearing their morning routines, and therefore giggled softly upon hearing Jack's sigh as he voided his bladder. They were such basic creatures, bless their silly little hearts.

She heard him banging about in her small bathroom and sighed. He'd obviously forgotten where the spare toothbrush was. "Bathroom cabinet, middle left shelf!" she called.

"Gotcha."

Several minutes later, Jack came out looking far more presentable. He'd tamed his previously insane hair into something closer to his usual unruly, and he was minty fresh. She knew that because his lips immediately found hers, sweet pink tongue reacquainting itself with hers.

Sam gave herself over to the sensations he aroused in her, then sighed when his lips skimmed down her throat to nuzzle into the hollow. She slid a hand into his hair to hold him gently to her, praying that he wouldn't let his demons get the better of him this time. He deserved love, friendship, passion.

Those warm lips left her neck and she gave a small mewl of discontent.

But not for long.

His hands pushed up her tank top, baring her breasts to his gaze. Then his lips fastened onto one of her nipples, suckling sweetly at it, tongue flicking out occasionally to rasp at the tight bud.

Sam mewled again and brought her own hands to his sweatshirt, tugging it up and over his head. His lips left her nipple with a wet pop, and he frowned disapprovingly at her.

Then gasped when she sucked his small brown nipple into her mouth, tugging at it with her teeth. She really liked his chest – firm but not bulging and with a light covering of hair.

She kissed her way down his abdomen, pausing briefly to dip her tongue into his belly-button. His stomach muscles contracted and he … giggled.

The man … giggled.

"Hmmm, who knew Major General O'Neill was ticklish?" Sam mused out loud.

"Shut up, Doc," he muttered then swept her own top up over her head, bestowing kisses over the entire collarbone.

With shaking hands, Sam slid her fingers under the waistband of Jack's shorts, feeling the soft skin, crisp curls and … hard flesh. She didn't say anything – didn't want to kill it – but grasped him gently.

He hissed – low and sexy – and pushed her hand away. "You don't have to, Sam," he told her.

"I know," Sam replied, her hand curling round him once more, stroking the engorged flesh and feeling it lengthen and thicken in response to her caress. "But I want to."

"Uh … okay," he acquiesced, his brows drawing together in a puzzled frown.

She enjoyed the feel of his hot flesh then decided that touch wasn't enough. She wanted to see him. With that in mind, she tugged at the waistband, drawing the shorts down his long strong legs. His cheeks burned crimson, but he lifted his hips obligingly nonetheless.

She had to wonder just how long it had been for him.

* * *

"Oh …," she sighed as she recovered from her climax, dropping her head to suck the skin of his neck into her mouth. In retaliation for the whisker burn, she sucked a little too hard and he yelped.

"Sorry," she lied with an impish grin.

"No, you're not," he muttered roughly, planting a kiss onto the tip of her nose as he moved within her for his own release.

Which came (no pun intended!) a minute or so later. He gave a long moan, then sighed, collapsing on top of her briefly before withdrawing and falling onto his side.

"Mmmmm … what a good morning!" Sam murmured, kissing his sweat-damp chest, lapping at one of his nipples, before snuggling into him.

"So … it was okay for you?" The man lifted his head to stare at her in inquiry.

"Put your insecurities away! Yes; it was more than okay," Sam scolded him.

"Good," Jack murmured. He dipped his head to bestow a sweet kiss on her lips. "Ah … you know I … love you. Right?"

So she hadn't imagined it! "I know it now," she reassured him. "And I … I love you too."

"Kay." Jack sighed. "So … uh … what now?"

"Breakfast."

"Breakfast?" He goggled at her.

"Yep." She giggled at his expression – he was just so comical at times – then got up and offered him her hand. "C'mon, old man; you need to keep up your strength. I've got plans for you."

He smirked at that and got up, grabbing his shorts and wriggling into them. "Witch," he said lightly.

Sam wasn't about to deny it.

* * *

**Later that morning:**

Sam sighed and stretched contentedly in the rumpled bed, listening to Jack singing off-key in the shower.

Hmmmm.

Jack.

Shower.

Wet.

Soapy.

Naked.

Yum.

So, what the hell was she doing in this lonely bed when there was a hot shower occupied by a hot man just next door?

She got out of the bed and pattered into the bathroom, then paused to watch the outline of Jack's body through the opaque glass. The man was lean – almost lanky – yet he was massively strong. Broad shoulders, slim hips, powerful thighs. Quite a package.

Pun or no pun? Sam couldn't quite decide.

She opened the door to the shower cubicle and stepped in. "Room for one more?" she inquired.

Jack's eyes widened, then he smiled crookedly at her. "Ah … sure," he said.

Sam tilted her head up slightly and gazed at Jack. Sure enough, he was blushing.

"What?" he grumbled, wriggling under her intense scrutiny.

"Nothing," Sam replied innocently.

"Huh." He clearly wasn't buying it, but seemed to let it go, for he held out a scrubby, filled with liquid soap.

Sam moved to take it from him, but he shook his head. "Let me?" he asked.

His eyes were so hopeful, Sam wouldn't have had the heart to say no. _Like you would have said no!_, she scolded herself. "Okay," she told him.

What could have been hours later, but couldn't have been because the water was still hot, Sam had been reduced to a pile of goo. Jack's long fingers had replaced the scrubby and were currently working at the small of her back, pressing, rubbing, caressing.

"God," she mumbled, "have you ever thought about going into the masseur business when you retire?"

He chuckled slightly. "I don't think I'd be allowed to charge for these kinds of massages!"

"Hmmm," Sam murmured. "I know I'd pay for one of these."

"You don't have to," he replied lightly. He turned her to face him and gave her a sweet light kiss on the lips. "Trust me; I'm getting just as much pleasure from this as you are."

Sam doubted that, but if Jack O'Neill wanted to give her a sensual massage, then who was she to argue?

She hadn't gained all her qualifications by being stupid, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

**PART 12**

**Later that day:**

"Off world activation!"

Sam looked up from the diagnostic she was running on one of the auxiliary systems, and smiled at Jack as he bounced down the stairs from his office. "Who we got, Sergeant?" he asked.

"Receiving Tok'ra IDC, sir," the white-headed technical sergeant replied.

"Ah … yeah. Open it up, then," Jack ordered.

The tech did so and a middle-aged male with dark eyes stepped through.

A middle-aged male that Sam knew all too well.

"Dad?" she gasped.

"What?" Jack fixed his own dark eyes on her then grimaced. "You're Sam-I-Am?"

Sam waved him off and headed down to the 'gate room to greet General Jacob Carter. How was he connected with the SGC? What was he doing coming in from off world? She wanted answers.

"Dad," she offered coolly.

"Sam-I-Am!" Jacob Carter replied. "I … uh … didn't know you were working here now."

"Yeah; guess we all have our little secrets, don't we?" Sam shot back then sighed. This was not going well.

Jacob sighed also. "Sam-I-Am …"

"Sam," she interrupted.

"Sam. I couldn't tell you what I did – you must understand that now you work here too."

Sam frowned. "Easier said than done," she said. "So … what exactly have you been doing here that's so damn important?"

"Ah … I'm Earth's liaison to the Tok'ra," her dad said.

Sam gasped. "You mean … you're …"

Jacob nodded his head. "Yeah," he said roughly. "I was in charge of the SGC when it was originally established. About seven years ago, I was diagnosed with lymphoma – terminal. We'd made contact with the Tok'ra by then, and they had one in need of a host. It was either that or death – and death wasn't acceptable to me."

Sam folded her arms tightly across her chest. "So … you went to live with the Tok'ra?"

"Not right away," Jacob replied. "I was needed here – Jack was still leading SG-1 and wasn't ready for the stars. Then he took command a couple years back and I moved off-world to help strengthen the alliance. It wasn't easy at first, but it got better." He smiled slightly. "I'm glad you know the truth; it was getting harder and harder to lie to you. And Selmak has wanted to get to know you – the old broad nags worse than any woman I've ever met."

"Selmak?"

"His snake," Jack supplied, slipping a warm arm around her shoulders in comfort then offering his free hand to Jacob. "Hey, Jake," he said with obvious affection.

Sam slipped free of her lover's hold and whirled to face him. "You've known me for months!" she said. "Were you ever planning on telling me that my father's got one of those … things in his head?"

"Sam … I swear to you; I didn't make the connection," Jack told her. "Jake always called you Sam-I-Am when he talked about you – and believe me, the man talks about you – and there are plenty of people called Carter."

"Hmmm," Sam grunted.

"Sam; are you okay?" her dad asked.

"I … don't know," she replied honestly. "It's overwhelming." She turned once more and faced her dad. "I'm going to need time."

He nodded his head. "I understand – it's a lot to take in," he said quietly. "I'll be around if you want to talk."

Sam nodded her own head then gasped when her dad drew her into a hug. He'd always been the quintessential military officer and had found it difficult to hug her, even after her mom had died. She returned the hug, slightly awkwardly. "Okay. Thanks, Dad," she mumbled.

* * *

Jack looked up from an intel report provided by the rebel Jaffa when someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he said.

The door opened and Jacob Carter stepped through, looking uneasy. That was the first time Jack had ever seen his former CO look unsure of himself. "Hey, Jack," he said.

"Jake. Come in; take a load off," Jack invited, kicking a chair forward.

The older man settled himself then ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I really messed this up, didn't I?" he asked.

"Yeah." Jack liked Jake, respected him, but couldn't understand how he could have virtually abandoned his own children. "But Sam's not the type to hold grudges – you … just need to give her time."

Uncomfortable with being caught in the middle of the Carter family thing, he fiddled with his laptop. Oh, cool – Minesweeper! Who knew these fancy PCs had the old games on?

"Yeah," Jacob agreed. "You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw her standing there – she's never shown any interest in the military."

Jack resisted a smirk – she'd certainly shown great interest in the military that morning! "Yes … well …". He waved a hand. "She's taken over the Science Department – we don't have to send half our stuff over to 51 now."

"So … how is she? Is she … happy?"

"Ah … I think so," Jack mumbled. Then he looked at his former CO. "Shouldn't you be asking her these questions?"

"I'm asking you." Jacob leaned forward earnestly. "I saw how you looked at her, Jack – I've never seen you look at a woman like that before."

"Ahhh … uh … well …"

Jacob chuckled suddenly. "God, Jack; lose the deer in the headlights look!" he said. "Sam-I-Am's all grown up – she can run her own life. I just wanna know that she's happy."

"I … ah … think she is," Jack said. He knew he was happy, but he'd never been good at making women happy. He knew it was only a matter of time before Sam tired of him and moved on to someone younger, more passionate.

And she deserved it all – happiness, passion, love, marriage. She was just … amazing.

"Hey! Earth to Jack! Come in, Jack!"

Jack blinked back to his surroundings and blushed. "Sorry, Jake," he said.

* * *

Jacob looked at his former subordinate and felt bad for teasing him. He was one of the few people who had access to Jack's unvarnished file – knew the degradations he'd been subjected to in the Gulf. It had taken Jack a long time to recover from that and then … and then he'd been trapped on Argos.

Although Jack had passed it off as being his own fault – he hadn't realized it was a marriage cake – Jacob thought differently. Jack hadn't been cognizant, hadn't been capable of making a choice. That, to Jacob Carter, was rape.

Jack had withdrawn further into his shell after that mission, and it had been several more years before he'd attempted a relationship. Although it hadn't lasted long, Jack had been content, quite happy.

But he hadn't been in love.

A vivid contrast to the man Jacob had seen with his arm wrapped around Sam's shoulders earlier that day. Although shy and uncomfortable, the younger man's eyes had glowed. And not in a creepy snake-like way, either.

_**Sorry, Sel.**_

Jack O'Neill was in love with Jacob's daughter. And, though Jacob would have preferred someone a little younger, less damaged, he was happy for them both. Sam was bright, outgoing, confident – she would be very good for Jack.


	13. Chapter 13

**PART 13**

Sam sighed heavily and closed her lab door, then made her way to Jack's office. It had been a long uncomfortable day, and she needed a dose of brown-eyed General.

She knocked on the door frame and leaned in. "Hey."

"Sam."

Crap. Wrong brown-eyed General.

"Ah … hi, Dad," she offered.

"Jack's meeting with General Walters," her dad said, naming the officer in charge of NORAD. He patted the leather of the seat affectionately. "I'm just keeping this warm for him."

"Okay," Sam replied. She paused, stymied. "So … how are you?"

Jacob sighed. "I'm well. How about you?"

Oh yeah; this was going great.

"Fine. I'm … seeing someone."

"I know." Jacob Carter smirked slightly. "He's a good man – I'm happy for you."

"Uh … yeah, thanks." Sam fidgeted then sat down opposite him. "So … what's it like?" She waved a hand. "Having a Goa'uld?"

"Tok'ra," her father corrected.

_You say potato …_

"Different name, same species," Sam said. "So, what's it like?"

"I can't speak for all hosts, but Selmak is kind of an inner Yiddish mama." He smirked again. "Makes me exercise, berates me when I don't talk to her enough, has been wanting to get to know you for years."

Sam giggled – she'd forgotten how funny her dad could be. "You need someone to keep you in line," she said.

"That is what I have been saying for years."

Sam yelped at the sudden change in her father's voice. She'd read about the physiological effects of carrying a symbiote, but reading it about it was different to experiencing it. "Selmak?"

"Yes," the Goa'uld … Tok'ra, dammit! … said. "I am pleased you now work here – I have been wanting to meet you for many years."

"Uhh … okay."

"Sel; stop teasing the poor woman!" Jack scolded lightly, then stood next to Sam and dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "You'll have to excuse Sel, Sam – I think Jacob's a bad influence on her."

"Jack O'Neill; play nicely," Selmak shot back. His … her … eyes flashed.

And Sam yelped again.

"That so doesn't scare me anymore!" Jack said. "You know you're my favorite snake of all time." He patted Sam's shoulder. "You ready to go?" he added.

She was so ready. "Yeah," she breathed then got up. "Well … bye, Dad … Selmak."

And was out of the door before either of them could respond.

"So … bit awkward, huh?" Jack offered.

"Ya think?"

"So … my place or yours?" He looked at her bashfully. "Unless you'd rather be alone?"

Sam could tell Jack was becoming uncomfortable – he just didn't deal well with emotions. "Yours," she said. "I'd like to see it."

"Okay."

* * *

**Later that evening:**

Sam sat back from the dinner table and patted her stomach. "That was wonderful, Jack," she told him.

He smiled gently, then got up and gathered the plates. "I can't do fancy, but lasagna is easy enough."

"Speak for yourself." Sam laughed. "I tend to live off TV dinners and take out."

Jack made a disgusted face. "I like the occasional Chinese, but TV dinners suck," he said. "And what's with the dinky portions?"

"Not all of us are bottomless pits, you know," Sam teased as he went into the kitchen.

"Hey, I resent that!" the man called.

The impact of his words was muted somewhat by the fact that he was evidently eating again.

"What are you eating now?" Sam got up and headed into the kitchen with a small groan. She didn't think she could ever eat again.

Jack turned and waved a bowl of chocolate ice cream under her nose. "Want some?" he inquired, mouth full.

Bottomless pit.

Despite feeling fit to burst, Sam's attention was caught at the sight of so much chocolate.

Chocolate. And Jack O'Neill.

That had possibilities.

"Maybe later," she said with a smirk.

Jack fidgeted and shoved another spoon of ice cream into his mouth. "Well … let's get back into the living room," he said, switching on the dishwasher.

Sam smiled again – it baffled her that he could be so shy in some ways yet so sexy and adventurous in others. The man was a walking contradiction.

"What?" he grumbled.

"Nothing," she said innocently. "You're just so … cute."

"For cryin' out loud," he muttered then shoved the bowl of ice cream at her. "Wrap yourself around that, Doc – you obviously need to occupy your mouth."

She flashed him a wicked grin. "I can think of better things to do with my mouth than eat ice cream," she told him. Then moistened her lips.

Jack cleared his throat. "I'm an old guy, Doc, and we've done it … a lot. And I probably can't … again."

Eloquent. The man was so damn eloquent.

"Don't sell yourself short, Jack," Sam said, then stuck some of the ice cream into her mouth. She moaned softly. _Bliss. _She swallowed then added, "Besides, you've shown me just how good you are with your fingers and your mouth." She beamed at him. "Really good," she purred.

Then rolled her eyes inwardly. Purring? What next?

* * *

Jack felt himself go pink then he smiled at her. "Okay," he said, musing whether she would enjoy some of the other skills he had in his repertoire. It had been many years since he'd used them, but she brought out the naughty side in him that he'd suppressed for so long.

He smirked at that. _Sam Carter; Sex Muse_. It had a ring to it.

Sam regarded him curiously. "That's a pretty smug smirk you're wearing, O'Neill," she said. "Care to share?"

Jack coughed and tugged at his tee shirt, surprised to feel stirrings down south. "Maybe later," he said then looked out of the window, pleased that the clear conditions remained. Perfect for star-gazing.

"So, Doc … you up for a bit of star-gazing?" he asked.

Sam's big eyes widened. "You have a telescope?" she said.

"Yeah; up on my deck. I've had it for years," Jack said. "I'm a bit of an amateur enthusiast." He didn't think it worthwhile to mention his Masters in Cosmology – it was nothing compared to her two PhDs and the MBA. He knew he wasn't stupid, despite the act, but Sam was just off-the-scale smart. "So … you wanna?"

"Okay," Sam said, favoring him with one of those gigawatt grins he loved.

He went over to the hall closet and pulled out a couple of ancient flannel shirts, throwing one over Sam's head and causing her to giggle. He loved that she got his lame – often childish – brand of humor.

Sam wrapped the shirt around her slim form, surprising Jack when she tugged the collar upward toward her nose and breathed in deeply.

She shrugged her shoulders when she caught his eyebrow-a-la-Teal'c. "I like the way you smell, okay?"

She was weird. But he didn't mind at all. After all, he thought she smelled great. The delicate fragrances she wore, the spring-like shampoo she favored … nothing musky or heavy, but so sweet.

The door slamming closed caught Jack by surprise and he started. "Charlie?" he inquired. It was still pretty early – he hadn't been expecting the kid home for hours yet.

"Yeah," Charlie growled, and could be heard stomping into the kitchen.

Oy! Jack rolled his eyes. "I'd better go see what's up with him," he told Sam. "He's not given to tantrums."

"No problem," Sam assured him. "Go on, Daddy – I'll head up to the deck." She patted his rear quickly. "Don't be long, though – I have plans for you tonight."

She favored him with a leer and he gulped. "I'll be as quick as I can," he promised, then headed into the kitchen where his offspring was banging around.

SLAM went the cupboard door. SLAM went the refrigerator door.

"You think if you tried you could possibly make more noise?" Jack inquired mildly, folding his arms and leaning casually against the door frame.

Charlie spun round then favored his father with a sheepish look. "Sorry, Dad," he said. "I just … ah … I'm such a jerk."

"Why?"

Charlie blushed to the roots of his hair and grabbed a bottle of beer. He opened the top and took a gulp. "It just happened," he said. "I was just visiting like I do. And she was just being her, like she is. And we were laughing so hard I thought one of us would puke. She was … bent double laughing so much. And I grabbed her to stop her falling over." He sighed heavily and took another gulp of beer. "She's so beautiful … I couldn't help it."

"Charlie!" Jack barked, trying to make sense out of this discourse. The kid was rambling. "What did you do? And to whom?"

Charlie sighed. "I kissed Janet."

Jack goggled at his son. "Janet Fraiser?"

"Yeah," Charlie said miserably. "What was I thinking? A gorgeous woman like her would never be interested in a sophomore." He heaved another sigh and sucked noisily at his beer. "I think I really blew it, Dad."

"First thing you need to do is apologize to her," Jack said, disappointed in his son. "You know how wary she is around men – the last thing she needs is some horny adolescent slobbering over her."

Charlie scowled at the description, but didn't argue. "I will," he said. "I just … hope she can forgive me."

* * *

**Up on the deck:**

Sam pulled Jack's shirt closer around her body, enjoying the warm slightly fuzzy fabric and the combination of smells that just screamed 'Jack'.

It was a perfect night for stargazing and she soon found Jack's telescope. Wow, this was no ordinary telescope. It was top of the line and wouldn't have been out of place at an observatory. Yet it was so obviously not a show-piece – the mechanisms were well-handled, showing signs of frequent use.

And she had to wonder what else she still had to learn about this enigmatic military man who had taken up residence in her heart.

Her cell rang, sounding extremely loud in the still of the night. She started then flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Hey, Janet! What's up?"

"Are you … doing anything?" Janet asked hesitantly.

Her voice was small, childlike, and Sam felt fear coil in her gut. "Are you at home, Jan?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there soon," Sam promised, and flipped the phone shut. She was sorry to have to bail on Jack, but Janet was her best friend. If Jack was half the guy she thought he was, he'd understand.


	14. Chapter 14

**PART 14**

Sam opened the door to her friend's house and peered round. "Janet?" she called.

"Living room, Sam," Janet said, sounding a little better than she had a half hour earlier.

Sam went into the living room and was shocked at her friend's appearance. Eyes puffy and red with unshed tears, disheveled hair and lip swollen from the way Janet was chewing on it. "God, Jan … what happened?" she said, gathering her much smaller friend into a hug.

"I'm so stupid," Janet rambled. "I should've seen it coming. But it never even occurred to me … that he liked me."

"Jan; take a deep breath," Sam said, patting her friend's back. "Now … start again."

Janet sighed. "Charlie O'Neill," she said. "He … kissed me."

"Ah." Sam couldn't say that she hadn't seen it coming – the lad blushed anytime he was near Janet. "He's a teenager, full of hormones and you're a beautiful woman," she said. "I don't understand why you're so …". She waved her hand.

Janet sniffed back some tears. "I'm fine with the hugging," she said, "but when he kissed me, it made me remember …"

"Janet; you're worrying me," Sam said. "What happened to you?"

Janet sighed once more. "I was married once," she confessed, "but it didn't last long. I … couldn't satisfy him – too frigid. He'd try … weird things, but I didn't like them. Finally, he just … lost it one day and threw me … on the floor and took me." She bit her lip. "Since then, the only man I've … been with was your brother. And look how that turned out."

"God, Jan," Sam said, tightening her arms around the other woman's petite frame. "So when Charlie kissed you … it reminded you of your ex-husband."

Janet started crying quietly. "That's the thing," she said. "It didn't." Sam gaped at her and she added, "He wasn't rough, wasn't demanding. And maybe if he'd been older, I could've responded." She sniffed angrily. "But all I could think was that I'd babysat this kid when Jack was off-world. I pushed him away and told him to leave." She sniffled. "What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Janet," came Charlie's voice. Both Janet and Sam turned to see the teenager standing there, chewing his lip. "You're … amazing, and I'm sorry I freaked you out." He came over to them quietly, as if gentling a skittish foal. "I just hope you can forgive me – that we can be friends again one day."

Janet sniffed then held out her hand to Jack's son. "Of course we're friends," she said.

Then a fresh voice broke in.

"Janet – is Mark Carter Allie's dad?"

* * *

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

Sam chewed her lip and Janet paled.

"Doc … either one of you …," Jack persisted, his hands clenching into fists. "Is Captain Mark Carter Allie's dad?"

"Yes," Janet admitted, "but Jack …"

"The son of a bitch," Jack muttered. "How could he just abandon you and that great kid? And you, Sam – you're his sister and supposedly Janet's best friend. How could you let him get away with it?"

"Jack!" Janet interrupted what promised to be a tirade. "You're a great dad – nobody would argue with that. But some guys don't want to be parents, and I'm not going to force Mark into anything. I don't want him in our lives if he isn't going to participate."

Charlie squeezed Janet's hand then glared at Jack. "Dad; stop being a jerk," he said. "Don't you think Janet's been through enough tonight?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Sorry, Janet," he said gruffly. "Deadbeat dads just … piss me off."

"I know," Janet said wearily. "I've heard you go on about it for the last five years, remember? Why do you think I didn't tell you who Allie's dad was?"

Jack's shoulders slumped. "Because I would've gone and confronted him."

"Please don't," Janet said. "He knows where I live – if he wants to be part of Allie's life, he has to make the first move." She smiled slightly. "I have a great job, great friends and a wonderful little girl – I don't need a man to feel complete."

Jack eyed her then nodded his head. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll leave the guy alone, though God help him if we ever meet!"

"Yes, Jack, you've made your point," Sam snapped, becoming irritated. He was acting like this was personal and being a jerk as Charlie had so aptly put it. "I think it's time for you to go."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You can kick me out of your house, Doctor, but I'm not leaving unless Janet asks me to."

"Please, guys," Janet said, "I don't want you fighting on my account. In fact, I'd like you all to go." She sat down, suddenly seeming even smaller. "I just want to be alone."

"Okay," Sam said. She hugged the smaller woman. "Call me if you want to talk, okay?"

"I will," Janet promised, smiling wanly. "Jack … I know you mean well, but you can't fight everyone's battles for them," she added with a bit of the CMO authority.

Jack had the grace to look chastened, and he stooped and brushed a tender kiss over Janet's cheek. "That's better," he teased. "Sometimes I need taking down a peg or two."

"Or five," Charlie mumbled then grinned as his father glared at him. "Okay; I'm going!" he added. "Night Janet. Night Dad, Sam."

* * *

**Later that evening:**

"Sam." Jack touched her shoulder quickly as they lay together in post-coital bliss.

Sam turned and looked at the handsome man, to find his teeth worrying his lower lip. "Yeah?" she asked, musing on the possibility of replacing his teeth with her own. Such a nice bitable lower lip he had!

"You know … I wasn't pissed at you – not really," he said. "I know ol' Doc Fraiser well enough to know that if she wanted Captain Carter in their lives, she would've contacted him."

"Then why that thing about the deadbeat dads?"

Jack sighed and sat up in bed, the sheet dropping to reveal his slim yet toned body. Sam had no idea how his age hadn't caught up to him, but envied him his metabolism. "My own dad abandoned me and my Mom when I was a kid," he said quietly. "And it was much harder for a single woman in the 50s and 60s – it carried such a stigma. Don't get me wrong – she was great and I loved her – but she struggled so much. And I hate seeing that happen to anyone, never mind someone like Janet."

Sam eyed him curiously. "Was there ever … anything between you?"

Jack shook his head. "No," he said. "We met during the Gulf – she was still training to be a doctor, and was one of the team assigned to patching me up. We just … clicked. She's like a kid sister to me in some ways." He smiled slightly. "Doesn't take any of my crap, keeps me from getting too full of myself, everything that a kid sister would do." He tucked a lock of hair around Sam's ear.

Sam shivered at the gentle touch. "I've seen her flirting with you sometimes," she said, though now she knew more of Janet's sad history, she questioned some of her observations.

Jack shrugged. "I'm safe," he said. "I'd never presume on our friendship, would never push her, am not interested in her that way. And she knows that." He captured another lock of hair, fingers always needing to fiddle with something. "Damn woman can make me blush at the worst times," he grumbled playfully. "Sometimes I wish she'd go flirt with Daniel – he wouldn't mind at all."

"Daniel? He likes Janet?"

"Hell, yeah." Jack curled Sam's hair around his finger. "But she just doesn't seem to see him that way."

"They'd make a cute couple," Sam mused, then chuckled, picturing the six-foot linguist and the 5'2 doctor. "Although Daniel would probably get a crick in his neck half the time."

"Size differences don't matter when you're horizontal." Jack slithered down the pillow and sent her his most winning smile.

"Is that a hint, General O'Neill?"

"Ya think?"

Something prodded her thigh and she gasped. "Again?"

Jack blushed slightly, but managed a grin. "What can I say – you bring out the beast in me."

Sam reached downward and grasped the beast, running her thumb over the plump head. "You're actually a horny adolescent with gray hair, really, aren't you?"

"Sorry." Jack bit his lip. "I know you're tired, Doc; I can … ah … take care of this myself."

Much as Sam would have liked to make love again, less than an hour had passed since their strenuous love-making. His erection bobbed enticingly, making her lick her lips. "Jack … did you take something?"

The blush reappeared. "Yeah," he admitted. "A couple of those blue pills." The lip was bitten once more. "I'm so much older than you, Doc. Sometimes I can't … you know."

Oh God, she needed to hug him! So she did, smiling when he smushed his face into her neck. "You don't have to sport a constant boner for me to want to be with you, you know," she told him. "I'm not always in the mood either."

"Yeah?" The sound was muffled by her neck.

"Yep." She ran her fingers through his ruffled hair. "I'm not up to it now, but I can help you out."

His head lifted and he grinned playfully at her. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Sam wriggled free of his embrace then pulled back the sheets to reveal Jack in all his glory. "Nice. Very, very nice."

She worked her way downward – from eyebrow scar down to small flat nipples – kissing every inch of Jack skin available to her. The nipples puckered and tightened and he sucked in a sharp breath when she nipped each bud gently, running her hands over his flat abdomen, getting closer and closer to the 'beast'. Then she slid a hand round to his rear.

And he tensed.

"Jack; I won't go there," she assured him, stroking a taut buttock. "You just have … such a great ass." She leaned over and kissed the firm rounded flesh before heading back to his front.

The tension left his body immediately and he sighed. "Sorry," he grumbled, his hand wandering downward to cup a breast, stroking the nipple until it puckered once more.

And things stirred to life within Sam's body once more. "Hmmm," she mused, pushing Jack gently onto his back and wriggling on top of him. "Maybe I'm more up to it than I thought."

"Cool."


	15. Chapter 15

**PART 15**

**The next day:**

"Oh, Do-o-o-c! Wakey-wakey!!"

Sam cracked open an eye, glaring at Jack. No-one should be that cheerful at … she squinted at the clock … ten am?

Holy crap.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept that late. But, then again, she'd had a very active night.

Her body hummed at the delicious memories and she was surprised to find herself growing aroused. Maybe there was something to the theory that women reached their sexual peak in their 30s.

"C'mon, Sam – open those big blue eyes and greet the world."

She growled, deigning to open the other eye. "If you weren't so great in the sack, I just might have to kill you."

Jack smirked slightly. "I do what I can," he said smugly, tilting her chin up and depositing a quick soft kiss on her lips. "Breakfast is served, milady." And he deposited a tray next to her.

She opened both eyes fully, trying to recall the last time she'd had breakfast in bed, and zeroed in on the coffee. She took a sip and sighed blissfully.

"Good?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied. She took a larger mouthful. "Hot, strong and sweet – just like you."

And the smug look slid rapidly off his face, to be replaced by a blush.

Heh.

"Can it, Doc," he grumbled. "You want to mess up my rep as Old Stone-Heart O'Neill?"

She smiled slightly then reached downward to cup him. "Looks like something else is made of stone, too," she commented.

"What?" Jack's gaze followed the path of her hand and he blushed again. "Crap. Stupid Viagra."

Sam was aching, her insides protesting the idea of taking him again, but she couldn't let such sincere … interest go to waste. "I can fix that," she told him, sliding his zipper downward.

_Heh_, she thought gleefully as Jack groaned gutturally, _who's the smug one now, O'Neill?_

* * *

**Later that day:**

"Unauthorized off-world activation!"

Jack jogged down the stairs from his office, sparing a nod for one of the white-coated lab rats – they came and went, he could never keep track of their names. "Who we got, Walter?"

"I'm getting an IDC – it's from B2Z 9QT," the small bespectacled man said.

"Quinlan, sir," the white-coat piped up.

_Ah._ "Well, open it up then," Jack instructed.

Walter placed his hand on the palm reader, activating the iris. It opened and … nothing.

Then a small figure stepped through, clutching something fiercely.

Tralin. And Krys.

Jack leaned into his mic. "Stand down!" he ordered the SFs. He went down the stairs and got into the 'gate room just as Tralin began to buckle. He caught her, and gazed shocked at the bloody mess that had once been a youthful, pretty face. What the hell had happened?

"Jack …," Tralin murmured, "all … gone. Help …"

The bundle in Tralin's arms wriggled as Tralin went limp, and a mop of dark curls appeared. "Jack …," the little girl whimpered.

Jack picked up the little girl then hit the medic alert button. "Medical team to the 'gate room!" he ordered before turning his attention back to Tralin. Much as he loved little Krys, she seemed in pretty good shape. As for Tralin … he was no medic, but he'd seen injuries like this before and knew that only a miracle would save her.

The medical team entered the room, lead by Janet Fraiser. Janet began barking out orders and within a minute, she was leading them back out. Jack followed behind, carrying Krys. Tralin would want to say goodbye to her …

* * *

Tralin was no longer in pain. She lay hooked up to some equipment that was primitive to her eyes, but effective. It monitored her vital signs and also provided essential nutrients.

Her daughter lay in her arms, head snuggled into her chest.

And General Jack O'Neill sat by her side, one hand resting gently on Krys' head, his warm brown eyes soft with concern and heavy with sleep. Samantha stood anxiously near him, her feelings less clear. There was concern for Krys and Tralin, yes, but also a little bit of possessiveness.

Tralin smiled slightly, glad that they had found each other. These two were heart-bonded and belonged together.

She raised her hand to touch Jack's hair-roughened cheek and he started. "You need rest," she told him, surprised at how weak her voice was.

"Later," he replied, and she understood.

"So … what d'you want from me?" he asked. "You know … after you've gone."

Tralin was grateful that he was so open about her imminent demise. The man was uncomfortable with much of his emotions, but he was open, honest and very giving. She coughed and dropped her hand from his warm skin, wishing that she'd had the courage to approach him when she'd first met him. "Merrick … is gone," she said. "Most of my people are dead or … prisoners. The Ko'rali …". She sucked in another breath, aware of the screaming protests of her lungs. "Krys cannot go back to Quinlan, and she … loves you. Will you and Samantha take care of her?"

Jack looked over at Samantha, raising his eyebrows. They appeared to be communicating without words, and if Tralin hadn't known better, she would have thought they were telepathic. Jack had a latent but untrained ability for telepathy due to his connection to the Ancients, but Samantha had no such connection.

Samantha nodded her head then clasped Tralin's hand gently. "Of course we will," she said.

Jack just nodded his head, his hand now stroking Krys' ruffled curls.

Tralin smiled. "Then I can rest," she said. She looked at Samantha. "You are very blessed," she said. "He is beautiful."

Samantha chuckled. "I think so too."

Jack blushed. "Oh, for cryin' out loud," he grumbled.

Tralin shook her head. "I am not merely talking about your outward appearance," she said. "Your soul is beautiful."

Jack laughed without humor. "My soul? Don't think I even got one of those," he said lightly.

Samantha rolled her eyes and Tralin agreed with the sentiment. The man was exasperating. "Jack; can't you just learn to accept a compliment?" Samantha complained.

Tralin laughed at the face Jack pulled, then regretted it when she began coughing – and could not stop.

"Doc!" Jack called sharply.

Tralin caught his hand. "No … need," she whispered. "Sorry; I cannot keep going much longer. I just … wanted to make sure Krys was safe."

"Don't you dare," Samantha said. "The Tok'ra are on the way – you can't give up."

Tralin smiled at the stubborn Tauri. "I don't fear death," she told her. "I am not leaving anyone behind who will mourn me for years, and I know Krys will be happy." She took the hand of each Tauri. "You are heart-bonded; your happiness will make others happy without them understanding why."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You are telepathic, aren't you?"

Tralin nodded her head. "Yes," she said. "You also have abilities, Jack. Untrained but powerful. And Samantha is extremely clever – she thinks very differently. Your children will be very special."

"Children?" Jack nearly squawked. "Christ; I'm old enough to be a grandpa! Why would you think I'd be having more kids?"

"And I'm past much of my child-bearing years," Samantha put in rather more quietly. "I don't think kids are part of my future … except for Krys."

Tralin sighed. Why could they not see how special they were? "Nothing is impossible if you have faith," she said quietly. She gathered up her courage and sent a request to Samantha.

Samantha looked startled at first, but then smiled. "Of course," she said. She squeezed Jack's hand. "I'm just going to take this one to bed," she added, indicating Krys. "Won't be long."

"Jack," Tralin said after Samantha had left, "don't allow fear to prevent you following your dreams. I …" – she blushed – "I was extremely drawn to you when I first met you and now … it is too late."

Jack opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out.

"I have been married, I have known love. But it wasn't a passionate love like the love you and Samantha have. You … a simple touch from you made me feel things I didn't feel even while making love with my husband."

And yet more mouth movements.

Finally, sound burst forth.

"But you're a young beautiful woman! What the hell d'you see in an old fart like me?"

Tralin passed over the word 'fart' as some obscure Tauri idiom. "Forgive me, Jack; I don't wish to embarrass you. I just needed to … tell you how I felt. You are very special to me, and I regret not having had the courage to tell you that before."

She swiped angrily at the tear that leaked out of her eye. "Sorry," she added.

"Crap. C'mere," Jack muttered, slipping his arms around her and giving her a gentle hug, tucking his face into her neck.

Tralin was startled by the gesture, but allowed herself to sink into his embrace. That hug told her everything she needed to know – this man was warm, sweet and loving and would make a wonderful father and excellent husband. "Please," she murmured, lifting his head up and looking into his deep dark eyes, "be happy. You deserve it; don't ever believe otherwise."

"I'll try," Jack said doubtfully. "You're a nice kid – you should have had passion."

"I was too afraid to experience life," Tralin said regretfully, "and now I no longer have the chance. I would not wish you to have the same regrets."

Jack smiled slightly as Samantha came back in, evidently glad of the chance to change the subject. "The munchkin in bed?" he asked.

Samantha nodded. "Out like a light," she said, then smiled broadly. "She's got a powerful snore for something so small."

Tralin laughed then coughed. "She gets that from her father," she recalled fondly.

"Okay." Jack clapped his hands together and rose. "Well, you need to get some rest – tomorrow we need to find out what happened on Quinlan."

Tralin sighed. There was much of her world's history that she was proud of. Then there were the dark times that should be shared with no off-worlder. But Jack deserved the truth. "Tomorrow," she agreed.

The man dipped his head and brushed a soft chaste kiss over Tralin's cheek. "Well … g'night," he murmured.

As the handsome couple left, Tralin put a hand up to her cheek, relishing the warmth and regretting her missed opportunity. _You stupid little fool_, she told herself, unaware of the tear rolling down her other cheek.


	16. Chapter 16

**PART 16**

**The next day:**

"Good morning," Tralin said quietly. She'd spent much of the night awake, dreading telling her tale, and she knew the lack of sleep showed in her tired features.

"Y'know … you don't look so good," Jack commented. The doctor – a petite redhead named Ja'net – glared at him and he went red. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Tralin managed to laugh. "That's all right," she said. "Polite lies won't do anyone any good." She struggled to sit upright, ignoring the doctor's protests and her own swimming head.

"Hey, careful!" Jack blurted out then wrapped a long arm around her waist to ease her passage upward. He settled an extra pillow behind her then settled her gently into her new nest, slipping his arm free.

His hand inadvertently brushed the underside of her breast and she shivered. "Thank you," Tralin said, cursing that even as ill as she was, his touch aroused such passion in her.

"Welcome," he said, sitting down in the hard chair next to her bed. "So; what happened with these … Ko'rali?"

Tralin sighed. "You may remember my talking of a diaspora?" Jack nodded, and she was not surprised. His mind was capable of retaining much knowledge – a lot of it arcane and eclectic to her mind, and a lot that could make him a very powerful man had he been inclined that way.

"Well … You must understand that this happened many years ago. We are not proud of what our ancestors did, but we don't wish to bury it either. If we do not learn from the past, we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes." Tralin coughed, and an aide appeared with a cup full of crushed ice. "Thank you," she added.

She took a sip from the cup, pausing to appreciate the cool wetness to her parched throat. "We were once a very technological society," she continued, her mind recalling the images from the texts. "We traveled space at speeds faster than light. We explored the galaxy and had even sent probes to our nearest galactic neighbors. But as we charted new territory, we did not take care to preserve our own world. Pollution and its related diseases were rife, people were dying."

"So … that's when you decided to reduce your dependence on technology."

Tralin nodded, although it hadn't been a question. "Yes. However, a large minority disagreed. They said that we couldn't turn back the clock – that we should learn to integrate technology into our way of life." She frowned slightly. "The Ko'rali called it … sustainable development."

"Yeah; we're heading in that direction on Earth," Jack acknowledged. "It's taken us a long time to realize how necessary it is."

"If only our ancestors had been as wise," Tralin said. "They were determined to reject technology altogether, whilst the Ko'rali were equally determined to continue with space exploration and the development of technology." She closed her eyes. "A long and bloody war ensued, in which we were victorious. The Ko'rali were given a choice …"

"Capitulation or exile," Jack muttered. "Nice."

"Precisely," Tralin replied, hurting at the revulsion in his eyes yet also angered. He was a soldier; he had killed many times. Who was he to judge them? "They were not mistreated in any way; we are not barbarians," she protested.

"Not as long as people toe the party line, right?" the older man shot back cynically.

Tralin sighed again. "I said I wasn't proud of what had happened. We were a frightened people on a dying world – we didn't believe that their proposals were achievable."

Jack nodded, his eyes softening. "So, the Ko'rali went off to explore space, but never forgot how they were exiled from their home."

"And they came back to reclaim it," Tralin said. "They have very powerful technology – some of it from before the diaspora, some of it unknown." She frowned again, remembering the hatred blazing in their leaders' faces. "There was such an odd … duality to them. It was almost like they were more than one being."

* * *

_More than one being._ Could a Goa'uld have taken over some of the Ko'rali and fed the vague historical resentment into a powerful hatred? Hell, yes! If they couldn't get power overtly, then some snakes were quite willing to work behind the scenes – they were long-lived and could be very patient.

"Tralin; I know this might seem out there, but humor me," Jack said. "Did any of these Ko'rali's eyes glow?"

Tralin regarded him oddly. "I don't know," she said. "I was too busy running for my life to look for shining eyes."

_Ouch._ He'd kinda had that one coming, he had to admit.

Tralin grabbed his arm, her eyes widening. "Do you believe that the Goa'uld have now occupied my home?"

Sometimes telepathy could be a really useful thing, Jack acknowledged. "It's possible," he admitted. "Someone's coming from the Tok'ra – they might be able to tell us."

"You have fought the Goa'uld on many occasions, and beaten them," Tralin said, hope flaring into her weary eyes.

"This Goa'uld … if it was a Goa'uld … has taken over your entire planet and killed most of your people," Jack said bluntly. "We don't have the resources to go up against something like that. And if it wasn't a Goa'uld, but one of the Ko'rali …". He sighed. "We've learned the hard way to not take sides in another world's war."

Tralin sighed also. "I … understand. I don't like it, but I understand." A tear shimmered in her eye. "So many people have died already – I would not wish to add your people to that toll."

"Yeah," Jack said roughly. "Anyway; I'd better let you get some rest." He got up and patted her hand quickly. "Shall I bring Krys in later?"

"Yes, please," Tralin said, her eyes closing.

* * *

"General O'Neill; it's a pleasure to meet you again – although I wish it were under different circumstances."

Jack nodded at the attractive blonde Tok'ra, who had arrived several minutes earlier with her mate. "Jolinar, Lantash." Then he added in confusion; "Martouf, Rosha."

Martouf/Lantash smiled slightly. "General; after receiving your transmission, we contacted some of our agents based in that region of the galaxy."

_Right to the point, huh?_ Jack could do that. "Goa'uld?"

"A minor Goa'uld named Zipacna has taken that world for his own purposes – it has much naqahdah and many strong people," Martouf said. "He …"

"We've met," Jack said, recalling the smug smirk on the Goa'uld's face at the Triad all those years ago. "Wasn't he an underling to Apophis?"

"He was," Jolinar said … no; that was Rosha's softer tones. "But since your defeat of Apophis, he is seeking to establish himself as a major power."

Lovely. Jack knew the pattern by now. Some Goa'uld took over a world, forced most of its people into submission, the Tok'ra would sneak in an agent to monitor and sow dissent if necessary. And a fifth column of Jaffa would begin forming as their God's excesses grew.

Sam's blonde head popped around the door frame. "Jack," she began then stopped when she saw the two Tok'ra. "Oh, sorry – I'll come back later."

"It's okay," Jack said, beckoning her into the office. "Sam; meet Martouf and Rosha, hosts to Lantash and Jolinar respectively."

Sam entered cautiously – Jack often forgot that she hadn't been at the SGC very long, wasn't anywhere near as accustomed to the Tok'ra as he. "Hi," she said. "I'm Sam Carter."

"Jacob's daughter," Rosha said, extending her hand to clasp Sam's. "He talks of you often."

"Yes," Martouf agreed. "I know he is pleased that you have come to work here." His head dipped then his eyes flashed, indicating that Lantash was now in the driving seat. "I do not mean to be rude, General, but I would like to see this young woman – Tralin."

Jack refrained from rolling his eyes. While he liked Marty a lot, the younger man being warm and gentle with an easy-going manner, Lantash was a lot harder to warm up to. "Of course," he said, waving the two Tok'ra ahead of him. "After you, kids."

* * *

Tralin knew that her time was ending very soon. Her moments of consciousness had become interwoven with periods of frightening incoherence – where she could not even hear her own daughter's mind – and her body was weakening rapidly.

With the last of her meager strength, she reached out and clicked off the supply of pain-killer. Ja'net looked at her with raised eyebrows, and Tralin sighed. "This substance makes me incoherent; I forget things, people," she explained. She nodded down to where her daughter sat, playing with a stuffed toy that Jack had given her. It was a peculiar yellow creature that purported to be human and Jack had called it Bart – Krys loved it. "I don't want Krys to remember me that way."

Ja'net sighed. "It's your call," she said, "but you'll be in a lot of pain."

"I'll manage," Tralin insisted. "It won't be for long."

Ja'net took on a stubborn set to the jaw. "You shouldn't give up hope," she said strongly, her gentle soothing movements belying her brusqueness.

Tralin smiled at the small woman. "There's no point in denying the inevitable," she countered, feeling the clarity return to her mind once more as the pain-killers ceased.

And the pain returned.

Tralin gasped as it rushed through her, searing, burning, ripping. "Please …," she gasped, feeling her life force deserting her.

"Mama …," Krys wailed, dropping Bart and attempting to scramble up onto Tralin's bed.

* * *

And Jack O'Neill stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, causing the two Tok'ra and Sam to bump heavily into him. "Crap!"

"Jack?" Sam queried anxiously, her hand searching for and grasping his now-icy fingers.

Jack clutched tightly onto Sam, needing her stability, her grounding. He'd felt pain, many times in his life. But this … This seared through him, burning worse even than the acid with which Ba'al had tormented him. And then he felt … someone whisper in his mind.

"Aveo. Amacus."


	17. Chapter 17

**PART 17**

"Jack?" Sam queried, grasping him around the waist as he swayed. "What's the matter?"

"Ah …". Jack sagged against the wall and put a hand to his head. "I'm okay, Sam," he croaked. "There's nothing cruvus with me."

"What?"

"What?"

"Cruvus?"

"What?"

"Jack; you said cruvus."

"I did not," Jack denied instantly.

"Did," Sam replied automatically. "You did say it," she added quickly, not wanting to indulge in one of Jack and Daniel's pointless – albeit entertaining – round robins. "What language is that?"

"It is Ancient," Rosha said, her eyes flickering over Jack's face. "Your report stated that the people of Quinlan had telepathic abilities – might they be descended from the Ancients, much as you are?"

_Huh?_ Sam was bewildered. Maybe it was time she borrowed a Tok'ra-Tauri dictionary.

Jack waved Rosha off. "I'm okay, Rosha," he said. "I just … Tralin's failing pretty quick now. And I can … feel it." He frowned. "Nice," he added bitterly. "Like I didn't have enough crap of my own in here." Then he grabbed at Daniel, who was going past. "Daniel! What does aveo amacus mean?"

"Hello, Jack; nice to see you too," Daniel greeted.

"Daniel …"

"Jack?"

"What. Does. Aveo. Amacus. Mean?"

Jack now sounded like he was ready to chew nails, and evidently Daniel realized this. "Roughly translated, it means goodbye," he said.

"Fuck," Jack muttered. He pushed himself away from the wall and headed off for the elevator, his long legs eating up the distance rapidly.

He was fast, but Sam was nearly as fast. She caught up to him just as the doors were closing and squeezed through.

"Sam?" he queried gruffly.

"Krys will need us both," Sam insisted. She realized that Jack's bond with the little girl was closer than her own, but she'd agreed to help look after the infant and she wasn't about to shirk what was going to be a very painful experience for Krys.

Jack looked at her searchingly then nodded his head. "Fair enough," he acknowledged – still gruffly.

They hurried to the Infirmary and Jack skidded to a halt as heart-broken childish sobs could be heard. "Damn," he muttered.

"J … Jack???" the toddler wailed, scurrying over to Jack and Sam and throwing her chubby arms around one of Jack's legs. It wasn't usual for children so young to understand death but, Sam reminded herself, Tralin and Krys weren't regular humans, telepathy notwithstanding.

Jack bent his long form and scooped up his favorite little brunette, tucking her head into his neck. "Hey, kid," he said softly, stroking her untidy curls as she cried, sobbed and hiccoughed out the worst of her initial grief.

"Jack … look," Sam said, wrapping an arm around his waist, her eyes huge.

He did so and saw a soft white light emitting from Tralin's body. The light coalesced into Tralin's face and she smiled down at them. "Be well, my love," she said, reaching out a tendril to stroke Krys' hair. Then she turned her attention to Jack and Sam. "Thank you – for everything."

And, with that, she morphed back into light and left.

Leaving behind empty hospital scrubs.

"Wha …?" Sam got out.

"It's … ah … called ascension," Jack said, trying to forget the painful memory of Daniel's own ascension several years earlier. At least his favorite linguist had come back to them, though. "People can basically ascend to another plane of existence – a non-corporeal state."

Sam's eyes were still wide, but he could see the cogs turning in her super-brain. "Like … Orlin, was it?" she said.

Someone had evidently been reading SG-1's mission reports. "Yeah; she was allowed to re-ascend after stopping our tests on the weapon on Velona," Jack said, remembering how the alien had taken female form and become very attached to Daniel. It was her attachment to the linguist that had saved them all.

Krys lifted her head and regarded her new family with eyes that were far too old and wise for her tender years. "Mama happy now," she said, patting Jack's cheek then leaning over to repeat the action with Sam. "You happy, too."

"We will be," Jack said, hoping that would be the case. He was happier than he'd been for a long time, thanks to the amazing beautiful woman with him, and hoped that it would last.

* * *

**That night:**

Sam watched as Jack leaned over the little bed he'd purchased to kiss his new daughter on her chubby cheek. "Night, sweetheart," he said tenderly.

"Night-night," Krys mumbled, thumb going into mouth and other arm wrapping around the Bart doll – _action figure_, Jack insisted.

Sam then leaned over to deposit her own kiss. "Night, kiddo," she said gently. Endearments for children didn't come as easily to her as they did to Jack – she loved the little girl already, but she didn't seem to be as good at expressing that love as Jack. Ironic really, considering how closed-off the man could be in emotional affairs.

"Night-night," Krys yawned, screwing her eyes shut.

Jack drew the comforter up over her tiny shoulders – summer was waning and the nights were pretty cool now – then stroked a thumb over her cheek.

Then he straightened and, with Sam, walked quietly out of the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Sam walked silently with him, wondering how this joint custody arrangement was going to work. They weren't married, weren't living together – would Krys spend half her time with Sam and the other half with Jack?

"Sam; I can hear your brain whirring from over here," Jack said. "What's up?"

"Just … thinking," Sam said lamely. She didn't want to voice her concerns – didn't want Jack to feel pressured into anything. After all, they really hadn't been together very long.

"Yeah." Jack grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "Me too. About this … arrangement."

"And?"

"I would have asked you pretty soon, anyway, but …" – the hand went through the hair once more – "… I don't want you to think it's just because of the munchkin …"

"Jack," Sam interrupted gently, "breathe."

"Kay." He blew out a noisy breath. "Could we try living together? I know it's quick, and I'm not that easy to live with. I'm grouchy and cynical, I leave wet towels on the floor, though I'll try to remember to pick 'em up, and I don't understand half of what you say …"

Ah, Jack O'Neill at his incoherent best. Sam smiled. God, she loved this man! "I'd love to," she told him, cutting him off before his air ran out.

"What?" He stopped mid-flow, hands flapping uselessly.

"I'd love to," she replied. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. "I love you, and I want to live with you and raise our child."

"Children," Jack mumbled, evidently remembering Tralin's words.

"If we have them; yes," Sam acknowledged.

"Cool." Jack smirked then it softened into a beautiful smile. "By the way, Doc, I love you too."

"Good to hear," Sam said.

Then his untidy head bent and he took her lips with his.

* * *

**Several days later:**

Sam awoke to find a warm weight on her stomach and a pair of dark adorable eyes staring into her face.

"Hi, Krys," she murmured sleepily.

"Up!" the toddler insisted, bouncing up and down on Sam's stomach. The little girl had been pretty subdued for the last few days – not unexpectedly in Sam's limited experience – but was beginning to regain her natural vitality. Her bond with Tralin would never cease, as it should be, but Krys' mother would become a sad sweet memory rather than a wrenching loss.

"Now where's she gotten to?" Jack appeared in the bedroom, looking comically harried, hair on end and holding an egg-beater.

"Jack!" Krys giggled and batted her big eyes at him.

Jack came over and scooped up the little girl, tucking her under his arm like a football much to her delight, then bent over and dropped a kiss onto Sam's lips. "I asked her to come wake you, not" – he scowled playfully at Krys, who just giggled again – "treat you like a trampoline."

Sam groaned and sat up. "It worked, I guess," she admitted, her stomach complaining its rough treating at Krys' hands … uh, butt.

"So … now you're awake, you want some eggs?"

Sam's stomach complained once more and the bile rose in her throat. "Ah … crap!" she gasped, scrambling out of bed and flying into the en suite just in time to expel everything she'd ever eaten since 1985.

She felt Jack lift up her hair then place a cool damp washcloth on her neck. "You okay?" he asked.

"Peachy," Sam gurgled, bowing down once more in obeisance to the porcelain god. She registered absently that Jack was holding her hair back as she puked – now that was love.

"Sam?" Krys quavered, toddling into the bathroom.

Sam was kinda busy hurling, was unable to reassure the infant.

"She'll be okay, baby," Jack said instead. "I think maybe we should get a test kit."

"Te'kit?"

Sam was vaguely aware of the little girl's puzzled query and Jack's quiet explanation, but was too busy fighting off the blackness that crept up on her. Pregnant? So quickly? Could it be possible?

* * *

**Seven months later:**

So possible.

Doctor Samantha O'Neill was about ready to put out a hit on her errant husband. Two days earlier, he'd been called to Washington on some mysterious errand – it should have only been a day trip, but he'd been delayed when the President had asked to see him.

You didn't disobey an order from the Commander in Chief, so Jack had remained in DC.

While Sam remained in the Springs and plotted his imminent demise.

"Come on, Sam," Daniel urged, wrapping a strong arm in support around her back as she strained to bring her child into the world.

"Just a few more minutes, Sam," Janet said from the end of the bed, where she was waiting patiently.

"That's … what you said … three hours ago," Sam grunted, wishing she'd been a bit more sympathetic with Janet during Allie's birth. Karma.

The door to the Infirmary flew open and a disheveled 6'2 whirlwind blew in, wearing dress blues and a wild expression. "Sam?"

"About … fucking … time you … got here," Sam got out.

Daniel relinquished his place to Jack and stood near to Janet – the two had gotten closer over the last couple months. Although Janet was still wary, Daniel's gentle soul and caring nature was doing a lot to heal her.

Jack wrapped his own strong arm around her. "Sorry, Doc," he muttered gruffly.

The contraction eased and Sam relaxed into her husband's embrace. "So … what the hell was so important that Hayes wouldn't let you come home to your nine-months-pregnant wife?"

Oooh, was that bitchy? She damn well hoped so.

Then she noted the uncomfortable flush on Jack's cheeks and suddenly saw that his blues now sported an extra set of silver stars. "Promotion?"

"Yeah." The flush reached the tips of his ears and he wriggled. "Lieutenant General now."

Sam smiled. "Congratulations, Jack," she said sincerely. Then a thought occurred to her and she grinned evilly. "You know; you outrank Dad now."

Jack gave her an evil grin of his own. "Nice," he responded approvingly. He dropped his head and brushed a kiss over her sweaty brow. "Now, let's get this kiddo into the world, shall we?"

* * *

Jack sat next to his wife as she held Claire to her breast, the baby grunting hungrily as it fed, pudgy fists kneading the soft breast.

It scared him a little at how happy he was. He had a loving adventurous wife, three beautiful kids, a great career. It was everything he'd ever wanted. And everything he'd convinced himself he would never have.

He recalled Tralin's sweet advice – not to let fear get in the way of happiness – and wondered if she'd found happiness in her new existence. Then turned his attention to Sam and Claire, wrapping his arm around them.

Old Stone-Heart O'Neill was dead. The ice had well and truly melted, and Jack O'Neill was finally fulfilled.


End file.
